


Back at Her Side

by JessC27



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2019-09-01 22:31:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 54,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16774201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessC27/pseuds/JessC27
Summary: This is a very Jorah/Daenerys-centric fic. The story starts during Season 7 “Eastwatch” and then more or less follows the rest of the season.





	1. I Missed You

**Author's Note:**

> I first started posting this on FanFiction. Some readers recommended I post it here as well. That’s why the first 4 chapters will be posted here all at once.
> 
> This is totally Jorah/Daenerys, even though Jon features in this fic. Also appearing: some on and off Tyrion, a touch of Missandei now and then, a tiny bit of Grey Worm, guest appearances by Ser Davos, a hint of dragons, a little bit of Sam later on and maybe some Sansa. At least that’s the plan for now.
> 
> Currently it looks like the story will have at least 10 chapters.  
> Enjoy and let me know what you think.

_Dragonstone_

There was a knock on his door. Jorah had already retired to bed. He quickly wrapped his cloak around himself against the cold and went to the door. He wasn’t really surprised to see who was standing in the hallway. After their reunion out on the cliffs they hadn’t had a chance to talk, at least not alone.

“May I come in?”

“Of course, Khaleesi.”

Daenerys entered and looked around. A fire was burning, but about to go out. Otherwise the room was dark, no candles were lit. “I am sorry, did I wake you?”

“I wasn’t asleep yet.” It was still early. But it had been a long and strenuous journey. Jorah had made as much distance as possible each day and even during the night whenever the moon and terrain had allowed it. The closer he had gotten to Dragonstone, the less he had slept.

“Are you unwell?” Daenerys asked with obvious concern. She was worried that he hadn’t completely recovered yet. Just the thought of it pained her.

“I am completely healed. But I traveled long distances. I didn’t sleep very much the last few nights.”  
  
“I see.” She smiled. “We can talk tomorrow. I will leave so you can get your well-deserved rest.”  
  
“No, please.” Jorah motioned to the armchairs in front of the fire. “Have a seat.”

She looked at him for a moment, contemplating if he meant it or if he was just being polite. He did look tired, but his invitation seemed sincere. Besides, Daenerys didn’t want to leave.

Jorah put two more logs onto the fire and sat down in the chair next to her, facing her, waiting for her to say whatever she had to say.

Daenerys put her hand over his. She needed to feel that he was really there. Until now she had not even admitted it to herself, but she had been afraid to never see him again. She hadn’t doubted his resourcefulness or his devotion to her. But greyscale was a vicious disease. It was an opponent one couldn’t simply kill with a sword. Daenerys hadn’t let on that she had missed him. She hadn’t even mentioned him once during his absence, not even to Missandei. She didn’t have the luxury to dwell on something that was beyond her control. She didn’t allow herself to think about anything else than that Jorah would succeed and come back to her. But now that he was back, very deep inside her, the relief she felt shocked her, as did the force with which it hit her.

“I-“

“What brings-“ They both started at the same time. Jorah nodded, giving her the opportunity to speak first.

“I missed you,” she said and squeezed his hand. “I thought… I feared…”

“I am back. I am fully healed. You don’t have to burden yourself with such thoughts anymore.” Jorah was moved that she did think of him while he was away.

Daenerys looked into the fire, which had started to burn with renewed strength. “Are these quarters to your liking?”

“Very much, thank you. Much better than my stay at the Citadel.”

She looked at him intently. “Tell me about it.”

Jorah told her about his time at the Citadel and about how Sam had risked everything to treat him. “He dared try what nobody else was willing to do, even though he wasn’t allowed to. He will become a great maester one day.”

“He sounds very courageous.” She would be forever grateful to this man, a man who had risked so much when others, much more experienced maesters, had refused to even try to heal Jorah. She felt anger rise in her, but refused to let it get the better of her tonight. Daenerys chose to focus on more cheerful aspects of his account instead. “And you seriously told the maester it was the climate that cured you?” she asked amused.

“He didn’t believe it. But I had to try.”

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” He was always so serious. “Tell me more about the treatment. Was it painful?” she asked apprehensively.

Jorah stood up and put another log onto the fire. Sparks flew. Sitting back down, he continued. “It was painful. He cut the greyscale off bit by bit and put an ointment on it. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t or the others would have found out. It made me dizzy. At one point I was sure I would pass out. Sam asked me if I wanted a break. But we had to do it all at once. We would not have gotten a second chance.” He watched her reaction closely. When she didn’t seem to be put off, he went on. “I wasn’t sure if I would survive it. I was lucky. If the greyscale had progressed much further, I am not sure the treatment would have been an option.”

Daenerys stood up and moved closer to the fire. Once in a while, the fire gave off a crackling sound and produced several sparks.

“Careful.”

“The fire can’t hurt me.”

“But it can burn your dress.”

She turned around and smiled at him, remembering the last two times she had walked out of the fire unharmed. He had been there both times. Motioning towards his arm, she said “Show me.”

Jorah stood up and took off his cloak. He rolled up his left sleeve and held his arm out to her so that she could inspect it.

Gently she took his hand and studied the scars that covered his lower arm. “Does it hurt?”

“No. Not anymore.”

She touched the scars, letting her fingers run over them lightly.

“With the greyscale it was a numb feeling, like it wasn’t really my skin. After it was removed, the skin was raw and painful for quite a while. Now it’s a combination of new skin, which is still sensitive, but also scar tissue. I doubt the scars will ever disappear completely.”

Daenerys’ hand had reached his elbow and the scar tissue disappeared beneath his shirt. She noticed the scars that were partly visible beneath his loosely fastened shirt. She gently placed her hand on his chest. She looked up into his eyes. “May I?”

Jorah nodded.

She started undoing the strings that held the upper part of his shirt together.

“It is not a pretty sight,” he warned.

She continued unfazed. When she was done she pushed the shirt apart. The scars covered his chest all the way up to his neck. “How far did it spread?”

“Just the left arm, the chest and the back.”

“I don’t care what it looks like. I am just thankful you are alive.” Daenerys pressed a gentle kiss to the scars on his chest. She could hear his intake of breath. Her action had definitely surprised him. She looked up at him with a mischievous smile. “That didn’t hurt, did it?”

“No.” He smiled back at her, relishing her every touch, but not sure where this was going or what her motive was.

Daenerys looked into his eyes. They were open and unguarded. There was strength and calmness in his eyes. And somehow she found herself there. She could be herself with him. She didn’t have to be strong. He was strong for her, whenever she needed him to be. He was always there, building her confidence, supporting her without asking anything in return. She didn’t have to put on an act to earn his respect. She had it anyway, because of who she truly was, not because of what she tried to be.

Jorah didn’t dare speak. But suddenly, without warning, her smile vanished and her eyes became misty. “Khaleesi?”

She averted her eyes. Seeing his concern for her made her feel even weaker than she already felt. But she decided for once, here with him, she could indulge in it. She rested her forehead against his chest. “I missed you so much,” she whispered. “I was afraid I would have to do this without you.”

“You have many capable men at your side. Tyrion, Grey Worm, Jon Snow.”

“Jon Snow has his own agenda.”

“I am sure you will win him over,” Jorah said with confidence.

She looked at him, seemingly annoyed and her voice emphasized that. “I didn’t come here to talk about Jon Snow. Tyrion is already doing more than enough of that.”

He smirked at her. “Then what did bring you here?”

Putting her hand behind his neck Daenerys pulled herself up and kissed him. At first, Jorah was caught by surprise but then he eagerly returned her kiss. He expected her to end the kiss any moment, but when she deepened it instead Jorah put his arms around her, pulling her up against him even more. He knew this couldn’t go anywhere. But he would enjoy every second of it.

Gradually the kiss became more tender, both of them breathing hard. Jorah loosened his hold on her and he couldn’t help but place one more kiss on her forehead. Resting his hands lightly on her hips, he said, “I missed you too, Khaleesi.”

“Parting from you after you told me you loved me, not being able to even touch you...” The memory brought tears to her eyes. After Jorah’s departure, she barely tolerated Daario’s touch. She thought it would take her mind off Jorah. But it only reminded her of what she had lost. “I already lost Drogo…”

Jorah gently stroked her cheek. He had missed touching her too. And that she would compare him to Khal Drogo was unexpected. Did that mean she had feelings for him too?

Slowly but firmly Daenerys pushed him backwards until his legs made contact with the bed and he had to sit down. She stood between his legs and bent down to kiss him again. When she started to push him down on the bed, Jorah stopped her. “My queen, you know my feelings for you. And my absence hasn’t changed a thing, on the contrary. But this isn’t a wise decision.”

Daenerys looked at him annoyed and put her hands on her hips. “Tyrion did talk to you about Jon, didn’t he?”

“No. Tyrion told me that you left Daario behind in order to be able to form alliances. And that was a wise decision.” Before she could protest, he went on, “I do believe you will sit on the Iron Throne. But you need every advantage you can get.”

“And three dragons aren’t enough?” she asked sarcastically.

“If you want to rule with fear.” He knew fear was only something she resorted to when she had no other choice. “In the East, the cities and the Dothraki were all fighting for themselves. There were no alliances you had to deal with. On their own, they were weak. Here you have to deal with alliances forged over decades, even centuries.”

“Alliances that have betrayed each other again and again,” Daenerys said with contempt.

“True, houses may change alliances. But you can’t rule the Seven Kingdoms without any of them. And Jon Snow would be a powerful ally.”

“You are not Daario. You are the rightful head of House Mormont.”

“No. My cousin is. And I hear she is doing a fine job. A better job than I could ever do. I had my chance and I made the wrong decisions. I brought shame and disgrace to my house. I am a liability.”

“That was a long time ago. You have proven your worth and loyalty many times over.”

“You will remember that not quite so long ago I made more errors which forced you to banish me. Twice.”

Daenerys didn’t like to dwell on those memories. His betrayal had been terribly painful, but only because she had trusted him implicitly. “It’s behind us. And we are stronger because of it. Even though you did betray me, I know you would never do it again.”

He sighed. “Never.”

She could tell he was exhausted. His eyes looked beyond tired by now. She should have been more considerate. Daenerys took his face between her hands and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Sleep.” She let go of him, sat down in the chair and took off her shoes and then her coat.

“Khaleesi?”

She went back to the bed, standing before him. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. I will wake up in the middle of the night and wonder if your return was just a dream. Please don’t send me away.”

“How could I?”

“Well, so far you’ve been pretty good at denying me tonight.”

Jorah laughed. He couldn’t believe it himself.

“I always get what I want,” she said and winked at him.

“Or you feed me to your dragons?”

“Maybe.” She climbed onto the bed and under the covers, pulling him down next to her.

A bit unsure of what exactly she expected of him, Jorah lay still and waited what she would do. Daenerys made herself comfortable against his chest, using his shoulder as a pillow and placing her arm over his waist. Jorah’s eyelids were heavy and no matter how badly he wanted to stay awake and relish every moment with her he had hardly slept at all the last few nights and the lack of sleep was now taking its toll.

Daenerys could tell he tried to stay awake. “Sleep. You are back. Everything else can wait until tomorrow,” she said in a soft voice. Only moments later she felt his breathing become more even and his hold on her relaxed. He must have been really exhausted. He had most likely slept out in the cold on his journey back to her. This was probably the first time in weeks he slept in a real bed. And from what he had told her about the Citadel, the accommodations there sounded more like a cell.

Daenerys lay awake for a long time, relishing his arms around her and feeling completely safe with him. She didn’t feel like a queen in his arms. She felt normal. It felt somewhat unfamiliar but good. With Daario she had never let down her guard completely. First and foremost she had been his queen and she had consciously upheld the distance her position had created between them, even in the bedroom. With Drogo she had always been expected to show strength as his khaleesi. Vulnerability was despised as weakness by the Dothraki. With Jorah she could just be herself. It was liberating. She watched the light and shadows flicker across the room. When the fire finally died down she also couldn’t fight sleep any longer.

She did dream during the night, of him battling the disease, screaming as it was cut from his body. She woke with a start, breathless, wondering if he was dead. But the warm body next to her brought her back to reality. Daenerys forced herself to keep still as not to wake him. But Jorah hadn’t even stirred. Carefully she placed her head back on his chest and let his strong heartbeat reassure her and lull her back to sleep.


	2. Touch

Early morning, it was just starting to get light, there was a knock at his door. Jorah had lain awake for a while, watching Daenerys sleep in his arms. He had believed her when she’d said they had put his betrayal behind them. But her sleeping next to him meant even more to him than her words. One was never more vulnerable than when asleep. And to sleep next to someone else required trust. He carefully tried to extract himself from her, but Daenerys woke anyway and looked at him questioningly.

“Somebody’s at the door,” he said quietly and made sure to cover her with the blankets again. Without the fire, the temperature in the room had decreased considerably during the night. He grabbed his cloak and opened the door only slightly, so that the view into the room was blocked.

“Ser Jorah, please excuse the early intrusion,” an agitated Missandei said. “I wanted to wake the Queen, but she wasn’t in her quarters and-“

“Let her in,” Daenerys said from the bed, rising.

Jorah opened the door and let Missandei in. She looked from her queen to Ser Jorah and back and then at the floor. “I am sorry… I didn’t know… I was worried and didn’t know what to do.” Actually, part of her had wondered if her queen would be with Ser Jorah. Daenerys had never said anything but Missandei was certain that her queen had missed him dearly. Missandei was an expert with languages, but not only with spoken language. She was expected to stand by and watch quietly until her services where needed. What many of her masters had not been aware of was that a great deal was not conveyed through words but through body language. And – to the practiced eye – Daenerys’ and Ser Jorah’s body language spoke volumes. Compared to other people they were hard to read, especially the queen. When it came to expressions and body language Daenerys was one of the most controlled people Missandei had ever met. She never gave much away, especially in the presence of strangers. Ser Jorah was a bit more open, and even more so towards the queen. Over time Missandei had learned to understand their silent communication. Their body language was subtle. It consisted of very small gestures. Often it was only a silent look or a facial expression. Judging by their body language and how regularly they made use of it, often foregoing words altogether, they were more attuned to each other than to anyone else.

Fastening the dragon chain over her coat, Daenerys walked towards Missandei and gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s alright. I should have let you know where I was. I didn’t mean to worry you.” She tried to smooth out her clothes. “Do I look presentable?” she asked Missandei, standing before her.

Missandei tugged some loose strands of Daenerys’ hair back into the braids and then nodded. It was only a temporary fix, but it should hold until they were back in the queen’s quarters.

“Then let’s go.”

Jorah was still standing at the door, about to open it for the two women, but Daenerys stopped him. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He would have liked to kiss her, but even though it seemed like his queen wasn’t uncomfortable that Missandei had discovered them together, it was far from appropriate. So instead he took her hand and placed a soft kiss on it. Then he opened the door and the two women disappeared into the hallway.

Jorah was almost glad that Missandei had disturbed them. If Daenerys had decided to seduce him again this morning, he wasn’t sure he could have resisted. Sleeping with her in his arms and waking up next to her had done nothing to make him crave her less, on the contrary. Last night, he had truly been too tired. Maybe it was his age, maybe his body hadn’t completely recovered from his ordeal with the greyscale after all. But he had been given a second chance at life and that invigorated him.

* * *

_Later that day, after it was decided that a small party would go beyond the wall to catch a wight_

This time Daenerys didn’t even knock, she stormed right into his room. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” she yelled before she had even slammed the door shut.

“No.”

“Why do men always need to prove themselves?”

“This is not about proving anything,” Jorah said calmly. “This is about sending the most capable men to catch a wight. And even though I am not thrilled either that the King in the North is going himself, we need him. I will make sure he returns.”

She gave him a scathing look. “If he always does everything himself it’s a miracle he is still alive.”

“That’s why his men follow and admire him.” As do you, he thought.

“Fine. But promise me, you will make sure you come back as well.”

“I will.”

Daenerys came even closer and placed a hand on his chest. “Promise me you are up for this.”

“I might be old, but I still know how to wield my sword.”

“That’s not what I meant. Have you truly fully recovered yet? You had half your skin torn off and then you traveled back to me without getting adequate rest.”

“I assure you I am fine. I was tired last night and I can’t apologize enough for that. Besides, I will have some time to rest on the ship to Eastwatch.”

She sighed and rested her forehead against his chest.

“Let me escort you back to your quarters. It wouldn’t do if Missandei found you here two mornings in a row.” He offered his arm to her. She sighed again, but eventually took his arm and he led her out into the hallway.

* * *

In the hallway, partly hidden behind a corner, Tyrion watched as Jorah accompanied the queen back to her quarters. Tyrion had overheard Daenerys yelling at him. He had waited in the hallway to see – or better hear – what would happen. He almost expected a shouting match. But he should have known better. Ser Jorah rarely raised his voice, especially not to her, even if she was in the wrong. He had an uncanny patience when it came to her. He never let her rile him up. Actually, the angrier she was, the more composed he seemed. But Jorah was as stubborn as a mule and hardly had any regard for his own life. Maybe he needed a reminder that he couldn’t serve his queen if he was dead.

* * *

_Dragonstone, at the beach_

When Daenerys walked down to the beach she wasn’t happy that she had to say goodbye to either of them. Jorah had just returned to her and she was growing more and more fond of Jon Snow. He could be infuriating, but he was also fascinating.

Pleased she noticed that Jorah looked more rested than the two nights before. She tried to keep the situation light. He would come back to her, like he always did. When he started to say something, she simply took his hands. There was nothing to say. But her touch had always been important to him. It was his prerogative. Nobody else was allowed to touch the queen. Not even Daario had dared to do so in public. Refusing Jorah her touch was one of the greatest punishments she could inflict on him. Only after she hadn’t been able to touch him due to the greyscale she had started to realize how normal it had been for them and that she missed his touch.

Standing there on the beach, she didn’t need to exchange words with him. She didn’t want to. She just needed to touch him. Almost imperceptibly he caressed her fingers with his thumbs and then he kissed her hands like he had done the morning before. Daenerys didn’t want to let him go. But she had to.


	3. A Moment of Weakness

_On the ship back from Eastwatch to Dragonstone_

“Where is Ser Jorah?” Daenerys asked one of the crew.

“Below deck, bandaging his wounds.”

“What? He was injured?” She hadn’t noticed anything. He had seemed fine. First Viserion had died, then Jon had almost died and now Jorah was wounded as well. She could have lost all three of them today.

Sensing her displeasure at the news, the crewman only nodded.

Daenerys found Jorah sitting in a corner, trying to bandage his chest.

“You didn’t tell me you were hurt,” she said disapprovingly.

“Nothing worth mentioning.” When he had almost fallen off Drogon, he had been hurled against the hard scales and spikes, bruising his ribs. Judging by the pain that shot through his ribcage whenever he took a deep breath, at least one rib was probably even broken. He struggled with the bandage.

“Let me help you,” Daenerys offered.

Jorah pushed her hand away. Choosing to speak Dothraki so nobody could overhear them, he said, “You shouldn’t be seen bandaging your soldiers.”

Switching to Dothraki as well, she said angrily, “You are not a simple soldier!”

“You should look after Jon. He is much worse off.” Jorah had seen Jon look at her. He saw admiration there. And Daenerys’ concern for Jon had been more than obvious when he had told them he would lead the party to catch a wight. Her reluctance to return to Dragonstone without Jon told Jorah a great deal about her affection for him.

“Fine. Then suffer on your own for all I care.”

She was about to storm off but Jorah grabbed her arm. He could see she was hurting. The loss of Viserion had to be devastating for her. He wanted to hold her, ease her pain, but it wasn’t appropriate, especially not here. And there was no future for them. Therefore, instead of whispering comforting words to her, Jorah said in a low but determined voice, “I am not of importance. I am expendable. He is not.” Daenerys glared at him and he let go of her arm, but continued, “He is a powerful ally and a good man. And I know you care for him.”

“Even if… I can’t give him an heir,” she said irritably.

“That is a problem for later.”

“Are you suggesting I lie to him?” she asked surprised.

“No, but his sister can continue the line.”

“All men want an heir.”

“He joined the Night Watch. He was never supposed to be with a woman at all.”

“Maybe he changed his mind. And he is not part of the Night Watch any longer. He can have an heir, but not with me.” She looked at Jorah, but he avoided her eyes. Daenerys touched his chin and raised his head so that he had to look at her. “This isn’t about Jon.” Why was he pushing her away? “What was that the night you came back?” she asked in a whisper.

“A moment of weakness.” A dream come true, Jorah thought.

Daenerys dropped her hand and took a step back. “Do you really think you would just be a substitute for Daario?” she asked aghast. Hadn’t she made her feelings clear?

“A moment of weakness on my side,” Jorah clarified. No matter how much he had dreamed of her coming to him, he had let it go too far.

“Answer my question!” she demanded.

Jorah thought about it for a moment, but he could feel that it was more than just sexual desire for her. And if she had just wanted sex she needn’t have stayed with him for the night. She could have simply gone to Jon instead. “No,” he said almost inaudibly. “But maybe I came back at the worst possible time.”

“Don’t ever say that again!”

“I think your feelings for him are deeper than you are admitting to yourself.”

“When the raven from Gendry reached Dragonstone, my first thought went out to you. Not Jon.”

“He is the King in the North. He is your age. He is much more suited to be with you.”

Why was he so damn stubborn? “There is no one I trust more than you. With my life. And with my heart.”

Jorah was stunned when he heard those words. His heart rejoiced and broke at the same time. This couldn’t go anywhere. It had to stop. He should have never allowed her to stay with him for the night. But they had both been too emotional after his return. Months of not knowing if they would ever see each other again had – at least temporarily – erased any protocol and self-restraint that had been left between them.

Jorah looked around him. The room was empty. Despite speaking in a language foreign to the rest of the crew, the tone of their voices must have made them uncomfortable. They had discreetly left one after the other. Nevertheless, Jorah continued in Dothraki. “We have a war to win, two actually. If we lose, it won’t matter if there is an heir. You are Daenerys Stormborn. Rightful heir to the Targaryen thrown. Mother of dragons. You are meant to do great things. I won’t stand between you and your Iron Throne. I won’t stand between you and him. I won’t risk the lives of thousands because of my love for you. And I love you more than anything. My absence hasn’t changed that. You were what kept me going, what made me fight. I owe you my life. But if I give in now, it might jeopardize everything you worked and suffered for. I won’t risk that. I love you too much for that.”

Daenerys let his words sink in. She had never doubted his feelings. Even when Tyrion had told her in Meereen, she had already known. But she had refused to think about or acknowledge it, not even to herself. And now that she was prepared to face those feelings – both of theirs – he wouldn’t act on his. Finally, resigned, she said, “You have a weird way of showing your love.”

He bowed his head. “Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Daenerys said with moisture in her eyes. Jorah was right. She had fought for years to retake the Iron Throne in the name of her family. It had taken her years just to get back to Dragonstone. She was so close. But the hardest part still lay ahead of her. And if they didn’t defeat the army of the dead, it wouldn’t matter who sat on the Iron Throne. She couldn’t let her feelings for Jorah derail her from her path. She needed to focus on her goal. Nothing else mattered.

If she had only resisted going to Jorah that night. Maybe they would have just gone back to how it had been before she had found out about his betrayal. His sudden return had caught her off-guard. It had torn at her heart, at all the feelings that had lain buried there. His return had unleashed them and she had been incapable of dealing with them adequately. Whom was she trying to fool? Things between them were different. And they hadn’t just been different since his return. They had been different since the day Jorah had revealed the greyscale to her outside Vaes Dothrak. Banishing him was one thing, but thinking he might be forever taken from her had put things into perspective. It had changed how she saw him. At least he was back at her side. That was the most important thing. She had to be grateful for that.

Daenerys turned to leave, but then stopped. “One more thing. For me, it wasn’t a moment of weakness.” It might have started as such. But it had turned into a moment of clarity for her. She had found herself with him. She couldn’t imagine feeling like that with Jon. She hadn’t felt like that with Drogo, and certainly not with Daario. With Jon there was attraction. He was a good man, honest and trustworthy. But with Jorah it was a feeling she couldn’t quite describe. It went beyond words. It was a feeling of belonging. “I knew what I was doing.”

* * *

When Ser Davos entered Jon’s cabin, Daenerys was sitting next to his bed. “Your Grace,” he greeted. “I’ll come back later.”

Daenerys rose. “No need, Ser Davos. I was just leaving anyway.” She turned to Jon. “Get some rest.” And without another word she left.

“How are you feeling?” Davos asked, standing at the foot of the bed.

“I’ve felt better. I’ve also felt worse.”

Jon was still looking at the door and seemed lost in thought. “You do like her,” Davos remarked.

“It’s hard not to.”

“Well, it looks like the feeling is mutual.”

“I don’t know.”

Davos looked at him surprised. “Are you that blind?” When Jon didn’t answer, he added, “She refused to leave Eastwatch without you.”

“There is someone else she wouldn’t have left without.”

Only one person came to Ser Davos’ mind. “You mean Ser Jorah Mormont?”

Jon nodded. He was not in the habit of discussing something like this with anyone. But he really liked Daenerys and it seemed to him that she liked him too. But he couldn’t figure out what Jorah’s place was in her life. Although Jorah treated her with respect as was appropriate for a queen, they were certainly close. It seemed like there was a different set of rules for Jorah. Daenerys had introduced him as an “old friend”. The relief in her eyes when Jorah had appeared on the cliffs had been hard to miss. Jon wondered what their reunion would have been like if he hadn’t been present. Although, he’d had the impression that neither of them had been paying much attention to him. For a moment, it had seemed like Daenerys had completely forgotten about him.

“He is certainly not afraid to tell her his opinion,” Davos said.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well…,” Davos hesitated. It probably wasn’t anything the queen or Ser Jorah wanted known, as they had conversed in a foreign language, but his loyalty was to Jon Snow. “They seemed to have an argument.”

“An argument?”

“I couldn’t tell for sure. They were talking in a language foreign to me, probably Dothraki. I quickly retreated when I saw them arguing. They didn’t even notice me.” Not many people would dare argue with a queen like that. Moreover, they had been standing quite close. “They seemed very…” Davos was searching for the right word, “familiar with each other.”

“He is an old friend of hers.”

“And he just suddenly reappeared one day?”

“I don’t think he stayed away by choice.”

Davos remembered what Ser Jorah had said in the Chamber of the Painted Table. “Ser Jorah mentioned a cure. He was sick?”

“I believe so.” Daenerys had mentioned a cure as well on the cliffs. It must have been something very serious or contagious for Jorah to stay away until he was fully cured.

“He’s a disgraced lord from a small house.”  
  
“And I am a bastard.”

“You are the King in the North.”

“Do you know what that is?” Jon motioned to his sword.

“Your sword.”  
  
“That sword was given to me by Jeor Mormont.”

“Are you saying you owe Ser Jorah because his father gave you his sword?”

“No. But I offered him the sword that was rightfully his. And he declined. He was the first to volunteer to catch a wight. His cousin swore allegiance to me when nobody else would. His house is an honorable one. And that honor still runs in his veins. I don’t judge a man by what other people say.” Jon respected Ser Jorah. He was an honorable man. After their venture beyond the wall Jon had come to respect him for who he was, not just for who his father was. He genuinely liked the man.

“So you judge by actions?”

“Yes.”

Ser Davos pointed to the empty chair next to his bed. “She was sitting there for hours while you were asleep.”


	4. Withdrawal

_After the journey to King’s Landing, back at Dragonstone, Chamber of the Painted Table_

“I will lead the Dothraki to White Harbor,” Jorah said. Since Daenerys had agreed to Jon’s suggestion of sailing to White Harbor, he was the most logical choice to lead the Dothraki. Daenerys would be safe on the ship. He had no doubt that Jon would make sure of that.

Daenerys looked at Jorah with clear disapproval.

“Nobody else speaks Dothraki,” Jorah added. “And the Dothraki don’t speak the common language.”

Daenerys eyed him skeptically. Was he trying to avoid her? She couldn’t ask him in front of the others. But now that she thought about it, lately Jorah had made many excuses to not be alone with her or to not be around her at all. He was the most obvious choice to lead the Dothraki in her place though. She tore her eyes away from his and addressed the whole group. “It’s decided then. Let’s get the preparations for the trip under way. Jon, please let your sisters and your brother know that we are on our way and that I am looking forward to meet them.”

They all nodded and started to leave the room.

“Ser Jorah, one moment, please,” Daenerys said. Everybody else left and when the door was closed she motioned to the chair beside hers.

“Thank you, but I am fine standing.”

“As you wish,” she said, slightly annoyed that he would chose to stay so formal even though they were alone. Daenerys considered standing up herself, but then decided on staying where she was. If he stood his ground, so would she.

Jorah noticed that she seemed tense. He walked over to the chair next to hers, reducing their distance considerably, and casually rested his hands on the backrest.

“Are you avoiding me?”

“No, your Grace. I’ve been getting acquainted with your new khalasar and learning the layout of Dragonstone,” Jorah said. It was partly true, but he had also made himself scarce, especially when Jon was around. “I’ve also been spending some time with Tyrion, trying to figure out if he gave you any bad advice over the last few months.”

“He is just as persistent and opinionated as you.”

Jorah smiled at her. “And still you made him your Hand.”

“I have no use for advisors that tell me what I want to hear. Therefore, he’s been a worthy replacement – in that regard. I think he truly missed you. When you didn’t come back with us from Vaes Dothrak, he asked about your whereabouts. I didn’t intend to tell him. But he assumed I had banished you again and kept telling me that I was making a big mistake. He wouldn’t let it go. So I had to tell him the truth. He was unusually quiet after that for a while.

“It seems he has forgiven me for kidnapping him,” Jorah said.

“One day you have to tell me about your adventures with Tyrion. He sometimes mentions bits and pieces about your time together. But I haven’t been able to piece the whole story together.”

“Don’t believe everything he tells you, especially when he is drunk.”

Neither of them said anything for a while. The silence became slightly awkward and Jorah would have taken his leave, but she had requested him to stay. And he doubted it was to talk about Tyrion’s storytelling or drinking habits.

Daenerys got up and walked over to the windows. She looked out over the ocean for quite a while before she turned around. “I won’t be at dinner tonight,” she finally said, watching Jorah intently. “I will have dinner with Jon in his quarters.” There was no need to tell him why she would not have dinner with everybody else in the big dining hall. Jorah might have suspected the reason anyway and he would have known for sure once Jon also wouldn’t appear for dinner. Telling Jorah with whom and where she was having dinner was unnecessary, but she wanted to see his reaction.

Jorah managed a neutral expression, but only barely. “He is a powerful ally. And he is a good man. To find both in one person is rare,” he said, avoiding her eyes.

“So are you.” Daenerys had come to accept that Jorah wouldn’t change his mind about taking their relationship beyond friendship. She thought she could deal with it. But he had made the decision for her and that didn’t sit well with her. Jorah was right that Jon was a powerful alley and she needed him. She had even considered marrying Hizdahr zo Loraq back in Meereen. Jon was a much more appealing choice. But Jorah’s continued pushing for her to accept Jon as a suitor was starting to annoy her. That was her decision, not his.

“I have been banished from my house. There was a death warrant on my head.”

“Are people in the north always this unforgiving? Or is that a Mormont trait?” she asked sharply.

As was his habit, Jorah didn’t add fuel to the fire that raged in her. He just observed her quietly, gauging her mood, trying to figure out where the sudden anger had come from.

Daenerys took a calming breath. His silent look made her relent. Why was she so upset? What did she expect how Jorah would react? Did she want him to be angry at her for having dinner with Jon? If he had yelled at her – not that he ever would – would that have made her happy? Unlikely. She would have just yelled back at him that it had all been his fault in the first place. Daenerys closed her eyes and shook her head, forcing those thoughts away. They were pointless now.

“Khaleesi?” he said carefully.

She opened her eyes and walked towards him. “I’m sorry.” She reached out to touch his hand, but when her fingers grazed his skin he withdrew his hand. For a moment she thought she couldn’t breathe. That he would avoid her touch was completely unexpected. It hurt. Without another word she walked past him and left.

Jorah watched her leave, not quite sure what had caused her sudden departure. He suspected Daenerys was fighting an inner battle against herself. So was he. If she really wanted a future with Jon, he had to keep his distance. Jorah had seen Jon look at her. And he had also seen Jon observe him. He didn’t want to give Jon any reason to think Daenerys and him were more than just friends. Then his sacrifice would be for nothing. Jon had not been in the room, but Jorah was afraid he’d give in after all if she touched him. Moreover, touching was a habit they would have to break. But knowing that she wanted him made everything more difficult. As long as it had been one-sided it had been easier to deal with. Jorah sighed. Maybe some distance would do them both good and help them get their feelings under control.

* * *

Daenerys walked down the empty corridor. She didn’t know where she was going. It was one thing to turn her away, another that Jorah continued to push her into somebody else’s arms. But what hurt the most was him refusing her touch. Was it punishment for having dinner with Jon? Jorah had encouraged her. He had no right to be angry with her. 

She turned left, but there were some of the Unsullied standing guard. She turned around and almost ran in the other direction. Daenerys didn’t want to see anyone. She wasn’t just angry at Jorah. She was also angry at herself for her reaction. She didn’t want to feel this way. She needed to clear her head. She wanted to be alone. No, she didn’t want to be alone, she wanted her dragons. They loved her unconditionally. Heading outside, she hoped they were nearby.

Drogon and Rhaegal were indeed close by. They were playing high above Dragonstone, chasing seagulls. The wind had picked up considerably and dark clouds were approaching from the horizon. A storm was brewing. But it was still some distance away. Besides, she was Daenerys Stormborn. No storm would deter her. And the weather fit her mood perfectly.

Drogon immediately dove down, heading straight for her. He landed beside her, nudging his head gently against her chest. Daenerys caressed his snout. Rhaegal landed next to his brother, flapping his wings, shoving his head against Drogon’s, also wanting to be patted.

At least her dragons knew when she needed them. “Let’s go for a ride,” Daenerys said. Drogon bent down even lower, allowing her to climb onto his back. As soon as she was settled, Drogon took off and Rhaegal followed suit.

* * *

_Later that same day_

“I am sorry I kept you waiting,” Daenerys said, smiling apologetically, when she entered Jon’s quarters.

A meal was already prepared on a table.

“No need to apologize,” Jon said and pulled out a chair for her. 

“Drogon, Rhaegal and I got caught in bad weather and I got wet,” she explained. She would have liked to take a hot bath after the ride with her dragons. But it always took ages to heat enough water and she had already been late. Her hair had been a mess and difficult to tame due to being wet. She could have sworn Missandei had cursed in a language foreign to her.

“You were out in this weather?” Jon asked incredulously.

The storm was in full force now, howling around the castle.

“I needed to get some fresh air. But let’s start eating before the food gets even colder than it already is.”

They ate and talked about inconsequential things, comparing the food of Westeros to the food of Essos, before turning to more personal topics like her dragons and his direwolf.

When they had finished dinner, Jon looked at her intently. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” 

“Ser Jorah, how long have you known him?” Jon had wondered if there was more than loyalty and friendship between her and Jorah. He had observed them closely after his talk with Ser Davos. But he had not encountered them together often and it had always been in rather formal settings.

“It seems like forever.” She had tried not to think about Jorah tonight. The thought of him refusing her touch still troubled her. It was like an open wound. 

“You two seem quite close,” Jon said carefully. He needed to know if there was more between them.

Daenerys pushed the incident from earlier out of her mind. She had provoked it. If she was honest with herself, she had wanted to hurt Jorah. And he didn’t deserve that. He was just looking out for her, as always. She looked at Jon. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. I have stopped counting how often he saved my life. How often he saved me. Just knowing that he believed in me…,” she trailed off.

“But he left?” Jon prodded.

Daenerys looked at him, slightly surprised at his question.

“You asked him if he found a cure,” Jon clarified. “Was he sick?”

She had forgotten that Jon had been present when Jorah had returned. She didn’t want to reveal the greyscale. Even though Jorah was completely healed people might perceive him as a threat and avoid him if they knew. So she simply nodded.

“I am sorry,” Jon said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It must have been difficult for you without him.”

“Ser Jorah is my most valued advisor, my most trusted friend. He was at my side from the beginning. He is the only one left who knows where I came from. He remembers that cautious, timid girl. I hardly remember her. He keeps me grounded. He’s not afraid to tell me the truth or what he really thinks. There will never be anyone I trust more. We’ve been through too much together.” Daenerys looked at Jon closely. She didn’t say it to offend him or push him away. It was simply the truth. Jorah’s presence at her side was non-negotiable.

“I understand. I am glad you have someone like that at your side, someone you can trust implicitly and confide in.” It seemed her and Jorah’s connection was based on years of knowing each other and fighting side by side. Jon could sympathize with how hard it was to find someone to truly trust, especially in a position of power.

“What about Ser Davos?”

“I haven’t known him that long. I do trust him. He has been a good companion. But I have been betrayed so many times. And I have betrayed people as well.” The only person Jon still trusted unconditionally was Sam.

“Really? I have a hard time believing that.” Daenerys smiled at him kindly. “But sometimes, it is necessary.”

“Yes. I believed in what I did. Even if the consequences…” Jon trailed off. “The world has become a complicated place.”

“I agree. Things change. Everything has become more difficult, more complex.”

Jon nodded. “Sometimes I wish I was still beyond the wall, just trying to survive from one day to the other, just being a small part of something bigger, not responsible for everyone in the north.”

“Then why are you here now?” Daenerys asked.

“Circumstances. Because hardly anyone has seen what I saw. I have nothing more to lose. I already lost everything I cared about.” Jon gave her a twisted smile, happy and sad at the same time. “A woman,” he clarified. Maybe Daenerys didn’t love Ser Jorah, but he would always be part of her life. It was only fair that she knew that he could never love her wholly. And it wasn’t just because of Ygritte. Dying – getting murdered – had changed him.

“I’m sorry.” Daenerys let that sink in. It explained the emotional distance she felt with him. There was an undeniable attraction between them. But Jon always seemed guarded, even cold at times. It made sense now. “But you do care about your people, about your home.”

“Yes, I do. But I didn’t choose to become King in the North. I was chosen as Lord Commander of the Night Watch. I was chosen to be King in the North.” And Sansa would be alright without him. If he had stayed dead, she would have made a magnificent Queen in the North.

“You resent it?” Daenerys asked surprised. 

Jon sighed. “No. But I wouldn’t have chosen this path for myself. I am a bastard. And I am tired of fighting.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“Someone has to stop the Night King. Otherwise… I might have just stayed dead.”

“So Ser Davos did speak the truth.” Daenerys had already suspected as much after seeing the stab wounds on his chest.

“They say you were reborn by the fire.”

“It sounds more dramatic than it was.”

“So it is true?”

Daenerys smiled at him. “I never died.” She stood up and went over to the fireplace, holding her hands closer to the heat.

“Are you cold?”

“A little.”

Jon got up as well and put some more logs on the fire. Then he took her hands to warm them between his. He felt a connection with her. He felt she understood him. He admired her, her strength, her fearlessness. Daenerys seemed to feel much more at ease in her role than he did. She seemed to never doubt herself. She reminded him a little bit of Ygritte. But Ygritte was dead. And in front of him stood this extraordinary, beautiful woman. And the attraction between them was unmistakable.

Daenerys looked at him confidently. Jon was good-looking, honorable and he wanted her. She could see it in his eyes. And Jorah had made his choice. Daenerys had given him one last chance to change his mind today and his decision had been very clear. Now she was making hers.


	5. Hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. The weeks leading up to Christmas are always crazy, work and otherwise.  
> The chapter was almost finished, but then I really wanted to add a bit of Missandei and Grey Worm and then I ended up adding more scenes and extending others. And I also worked a lot on later chapters.
> 
> And I repeat: This is a Jorah/Daenerys fic. I am not joking. My advice to Jon/Daenerys fans: Turn around now. Close the browser window. Push the power button on your computer. Or all of the above. ;-)
> 
> Big thanks to the reviewers!

Jon leaned forward, closing the remaining distance between them. Their lips met. Daenerys kissed him eagerly. Jon put one hand behind her neck, pulling her closer. Her hair was still slightly damp from the rain. And her skin was glowing. No, not glowing, burning. He pulled back and looked at her concerned, cupping her cheek. “I think you are running a fever.”

“It’s just the fire.”

He frowned at her. A moment before she had been cold. But then she kissed him again and the thought was gone.

Daenerys started to unfasten the belt that was tied around his tunic. But suddenly she got dizzy. She had to hold on to him to not fall.

“Your Grace?”

Daenerys closed her eyes tightly, willing the dizziness to go away. She couldn’t help but lean against Jon for support.

“Dany?” he asked worriedly. He led her over to a chair and helped her sit down. Kneeling before her, he checked her forehead. “You do have a fever.”

“Just give me a moment,” she said frustrated. She closed her eyes again, but the dizziness got worse. Her heart was racing. And it wasn’t from the kiss.

“Shall I get Missandei?”

“No.”

He got her a cup of water. “Here, drink something.”

She only took a little sip. What she really wanted was to lie down.

“Let me take you back to your quarters.”

“That’s not how I envisioned our evening.”

Jon smiled at her sympathetically. “Me neither. But you need to rest.” He put his arm around her waist and walked her slowly back to her quarters.

Jon helped her sit down on her bed and went to alert Missandei to Daenerys’ condition. Missandei immediately got to work and fetched some cold water and a cloth.

“I am sorry-“ Daenerys started.

“There is no need. I enjoyed our evening anyway.” He placed a kiss on her cheek. “Get some sleep. I will check on you in the morning.”

* * *

The next morning, Jon knocked gently on the door. A tired looking Missandei opened it and motioned for him to enter.

“How is she?”

“Her sleep has been quite restless.”

“May I sit with her for a while?”

“Of course. I will get some more tea. I will be right back.”

Jon sat down in the chair that was standing next to the bed. He wanted to take her hand but he didn’t want to wake her, so he just watched her. Daenerys was mumbling in her sleep.

When Missandei came back, Jon asked her in a hushed voice, “Has she been speaking in her sleep all night?”

“No. It only started a while ago.”

“Do you understand what she is saying? I don’t understand a word.”

“She is speaking in Dothraki.”

“Dothraki?”

“Yes, she has been delirious for a while. She thinks she is back in the Red Waste.”

“In Essos?”

“Yes.”

Daenerys became increasingly restless. Jon didn’t understand a word of Dothraki, but one word he could make out, or rather a name. “I think you better get Ser Jorah.”

Missandei nodded and left.

When Jorah arrived he went straight to Daenerys’ side, taking her hand and feeling her forehead. The cool hand made her open her eyes for just a second. “What happened?” Jorah asked, looking from Missandei to Jon. Missandei had only told him that Daenerys was sick.

“She rode her dragon and-“ Jon started to explain.

“Out in the storm?”

“Yes.”

“She came back completely drenched and frozen,” Missandei added.

“She just told me she got wet,” Jon said. “She seemed fine.” Then he remembered her going to the fire. “She did say she was cold.”

“Why would she do such a thing?” Jorah asked no one in particular. His focus was on Daenerys, who became more and more agitated in her sleep. Jorah tried to reassure her. “You are safe, Khaleesi.”

She opened her eyes and looked around confused. Only when she caught sight of Jorah she seemed to recognize him. “What happened? Where are we?” she asked.

“Dragonstone.”

“Dragonstone? That can’t be. How…?”

“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter. Everything is going to be alright. Sleep.” He took the wet cloth from the bowl of water and put it on her forehead, holding it in place until she had calmed down. “You are safe. I promise you. Sleep. Everything else can wait.” It didn’t take long until her breathing became more even and she fell back asleep. Jorah looked at Missandei. “You look tired. Have you been up with her all night?”

Missandei nodded.

“Get some sleep. I will take over.”

“I am not tired,” she said, not convincing anyone in the room.

“Lie down,” Jorah insisted with kindness. “You will be of no use to her if you don’t get some rest.”

“Alright, I will lie down for a little while.”

“She won’t be able to travel,” Jon said. “I will write to my sister that our journey to Winterfell will be delayed.”

Jon and Missandei left and Jorah turned his attention back to Daenerys.

* * *

After Missandei had left the queen’s quarters, she didn’t retire to her own room. Similar to the queen, Missandei had had an appointment the night before. But contrary to the queen, she had missed hers. Missandei knocked lightly on the door and then entered without waiting for an answer.

Grey Worm was pulling on his boots. He had waited for her all night. He assumed the queen had needed Missandei. Nevertheless he had to make a conscious effort to keep his disappointment out of his voice. “I thought… You said you wanted to...”

“… spend the night with you. Yes. I am sorry. But I am here now.”

He walked towards her and raised her chin to get a better look at her. She looked tired. “Is everything okay?”

“The queen is sick.”

“Sick?”

“She has a fever. I couldn’t leave her. I was with her all night.”

“Then you should get some sleep. I have to leave anyway. I will meet with Ser Jorah to discuss the journey north.”

“You won’t.”

Grey Worm looked at her, stunned that she would contradict him in such a matter.

Missandei smiled at him. “Ser Jorah won’t join you. He is with the queen. Besides, she won’t be able to travel. The journey has to be postponed.”

Grey Worm let that sink in for a moment. Then he looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Ser Jorah is looking after the queen?”

“Yes, the queen asked for him. Ser Jorah took over for me so I could get some rest.”

“She asked for him?”

“Yes. Why would that surprise you? I am not even sure if she recognized Jon Snow or myself in her fever, but she recognized Ser Jorah.”

“But… the queen and Jon Snow…” Grey Worm would never take part in spreading rumors, especially not about his queen. But ever since Jon Snow had arrived at Dragonstone there had been talk about them. And after neither of them had appeared for dinner the night before, the rumors had spread like wildfire.

“They what?”

Grey Worm stayed silent at first. He knew it was Missandei he was talking to. But he felt discussing this was inappropriate, even with her. “By now everyone knows the queen had dinner in Jon Snow’s quarters.”

“I would have never taken you for such a gossip,” Missandei said in mock surprise. She knew that being well-informed was part of his work.

Grey Worm was appalled. “I would never… I overheard the kitchen staff-“

“I know you would never spread rumors,” Missandei said gently. “I was joking.”

He looked at her with disapproval. He didn’t find any of it funny. “You spend too much time with Tyrion,” he said slightly irritated. “I just did not expect Ser Jorah to be with her,” Grey Worm justified himself. “Maybe the fever has clouded her judgment.”

“Don’t worry. She couldn’t be in better hands.” Missandei was confident the queen wanted Ser Jorah by her side no matter what state she was in. “Do you think Jon Snow would be better suited to be with her than Ser Jorah?” Missandei asked curiously, somewhat amused that Grey Worm even seemed to have an opinion regarding the queen’s choice.

Again, Grey Worm hesitated slightly before answering. “She is a queen. He is a king.”

“It’s just a title.”

“But Ser Jorah deceived her and she banished him.”

“He saved her life, first in the fighting pit and then in Vaes Dothrak. He would die for her. You know that.”

“Still.”

“Don’t you trust Ser Jorah?” If Grey Worm, leader of the Unsullied, had reservations about Ser Jorah, the queen’s advisor and general, that could lead to problems.

“I do. He is a wise man and a skilled general. But I do not understand why the queen forgave him.” Grey Worm still vividly remembered how furious the queen had been when she had found out that Ser Jorah had betrayed her. To Grey Worm it didn’t make sense that she had forgiven him and seemed to trust him more than ever.

Missandei gently took his face between her hands and looked at him lovingly. “The heart wants what the heart wants.” And then she kissed him.

* * *

Jorah was watching Daenerys for any sign that she was having nightmares again. After having fallen back asleep, she had seemed fairly relaxed for quite a while. But gradually she became more restless again.

Suddenly Daenerys woke. “Drogon! Drogon? Where is Drogon?” she asked in a panic-stricken voice.

“Somewhere around, I guess,” Jorah said calmly, trying to keep it vague, not wanting to upset her any further.

She was visibly distraught. There were tears in her eyes. “He killed a little girl.”

“You were just dreaming, Khaleesi. You had a nightmare.”

“No, he…” Daenerys looked at him confused. “You weren’t there. You…” She looked around the room. “This isn’t Meereen.” She was getting more and more distressed.

Jorah took her hand between his, stroking it to calm her. “Everything is alright. You have a fever. You’ve been having nightmares. But everything is going to be okay. You are safe here. We are on Dragonstone.”

“Dragonstone?”

“Yes.”

“How did we get here?”

“It doesn’t matter. You will remember once you are better. Relax. Everything is going to be alright. I promise.”

Daenerys started to calm down. She tried to get her thoughts in order, but it was just too difficult.

“Are you hungry?” Jorah asked, trying to distract her from the nightmare she’d just had.

“No.”

“At least drink some of the tea.”

Daenerys vaguely remembered Missandei giving her some bitter tasting brew. “No tea.”

“Fine, but then at least some water.” He handed her a cup.

She raised herself up a little bit, but it took a lot of energy. As soon as she had taken a few sips she was glad to lie down again.

Jorah took the cloth from the bowl of water and placed it on her forehead again.

Daenerys sighed. It felt good. She was exhausted and her eyes wouldn’t stay open.

He could see her struggling to keep her eyes open. “Sleep. It will do you good.”

“I don’t want to.” She could barely recall the nightmare she’d just had, but she did remember that it hadn’t been pleasant.

Jorah took her hand and stroked it tenderly. “You will feel better afterwards.”

She held his hand tighter. “Please stay.”

“Of course.” He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingers and then wrapped both of his hands around hers. She had already closed her eyes and fell back asleep.

* * *

Jorah was still holding her hand when there was a soft knock on the door. The door opened carefully to reveal Jon. Jorah let go of Daenerys’ hand, but not without Jon noticing.

“I just wanted to see how she is,” Jon said, walking to the end of the bed.

“She is sleeping more peacefully now. She is strong. She will be alright.” Jorah refused to consider anything to the contrary. She had to be alright.

“Please let me know when she is well enough to receive visitors.”

“Of course, you will be the first to know.”

Jon eyed him carefully, trying to figure out if Jorah really meant what he had said. He did seem sincere. Jon turned to leave, but then decided otherwise. “You love her, don’t you?” When Jorah didn’t answer, Jon went on, “Does she know?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for. She is my queen. I am not worthy of her.”

“I doubt she sees it like that. She values you more than anyone else.”

“But she loves you.”

“I don’t know about that. What I do know is that she needs you. Would you leave if she and I…”

“I would never leave her unless she wanted me to.”

“You would just stand by and watch her be with somebody else?” Jon asked him incredulously.

Jorah looked him straight in the eye. “It wouldn’t be the first time. I just want to protect her and help her reclaim the Iron Throne.”

“Jorah?”

“Yes, Khaleesi, I am here.” He suppressed the urge to take her hand. “I am sorry we woke you.”

Daenerys looked around to see who else was in the room. “Jon.”

“Yes, your Grace.” He smiled at her, glad that she recognized him.

Jorah stood up. “I think the kitchen prepared some soup for you.”

“I am not hungry,” Daenerys said.

“You really should eat something.”

She was too tired to argue with him. “Fine, I’ll try.”

Jorah gave her a grateful smile and left.

Jon took Jorah’s seat. He didn’t quite know what to say. He wasn’t a man of many words anyway. And last night they had almost ended up in bed together. That wasn’t exactly a topic to start a conversation.

“I am sorry our journey to Winterfell has to be postponed,” Daenerys said.

“Your health is more important.”

“The army of the dead is making its way south. You should go on and travel north. I will follow with my dragons as soon as I am better.”

“No, we will travel together,” Jon said resolutely. “It sends a clear message.”

“It does,” Daenerys agreed. She was starting to get drowsy again. It was frustrating. She had no energy and forming a clear thought was getting difficult again. “I’m sorry, I am not good company.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to see how you are. I will take my leave as soon as Ser Jorah is back.”

Daenerys gave him a weak smile.

Jorah came back a short while later, carrying a tray of food.

Jon rose, making his way towards the door. Almost in a whisper, as not to wake her again, he said to Jorah, “She fell asleep again. But I wanted to wait until you were back. I didn’t want her to wake up alone.”

Jorah nodded. He put down the tray and sighed. So much for getting her to eat something.

* * *

When Daenerys woke the next time, Jorah was sitting on the chair beside her bed, asleep. She watched him for a moment. He had a book on his lap. His hand was lying on her bed. She touched it. He was awake immediately.

Jorah had been fast asleep. He had barely slept the night before. He had tried very hard not to think about Daenerys and Jon but hadn’t been very successful. That he mostly had himself to blame for that situation didn’t help in the least. When Daenerys touched his hand, it took him only a second to remember where he was. Daenerys looked at him with clear eyes. Her condition had improved considerably. Jorah could tell the difference immediately by the way she looked at him. And there was a hint of a smile on her face. He sat up straight, stretching his muscles. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“Glad to hear it. You gave us quite a scare.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

Jorah wanted to chide her for being out in the storm and endangering her life. “Why were you out in such horrible weather?” he asked, trying hard not to sound patronizing, giving her the benefit of the doubt.

At first it seemed like she wouldn’t answer, but then she said quietly, “I was angry at you.”

“What?” Had he done something that had made her reckless with her life?

“I shouldn’t have been angry with you,” Daenerys went on quickly. “It was undeserved. It was foolish.”

“What did I do?” he asked distraught.

“Nothing, really. I was just angry that you would… push me into Jon’s arms so easily after…”

Jorah didn’t know what to say. He still believed it was the right thing to do. Finally, he said, “The last thing I want to do is to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“Don’t ever doubt my feelings for you.”

“I don’t. That’s the only reason why I haven’t fed you to my dragons yet.”

Jorah had to laugh. It warmed his heart that she could still joke with him.

“But…” She took his hand and squeezed it gently, glad that he didn’t pull away.

Jorah gently brushed his thumb over her skin. He could see that something was bothering her. He looked at her searchingly, questioningly. “Talk to me.”

“Were you punishing me?” she asked. “I don’t think you had the right to do so. _You_ made the decision.”

“Punish you?” Jorah asked aghast. He couldn’t follow her train of thought.

“When you withdrew your hand.”

Now Jorah remembered. She had told him she would have dinner with Jon and then she had left so quickly. Suddenly Jorah had a flashback. _He was standing in front of Daenerys in the great pyramid of Meereen._ _“Don’t ever presume to touch me again!”_ He looked at their hands. If she had felt only a fraction of what he had felt when she had refused his touch back in Meereen. Jorah shook his head in disbelief. How could she think he would ever do something like this to purposely hurt her? His face clearly showed how upset that thought made him. “No,” he said, finally finding his voice again. “I just thought it might make it easier.”

Her face immediately softened. That thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. “But… we’ve managed before.”

“Things change.” Their relationship had changed, even if they desperately tried to act like it hadn’t. And Jorah was sure Jon would not appreciate any physical closeness between them. “There’s Jon Snow now.”

“I am the queen. I can touch whomever I want. I told Jon you are my closest friend. I refuse to let anything or anybody ruin that.” She had just gotten him back. And nobody understood her like Jorah did.

“And I will remain your friend. But Westeros is more formal than Essos.”

“I just want it to be like before between us.”

“Like when?” Jorah asked, genuinely at a loss.

Daenerys sighed and closed her eyes. He was right. She had banished him. They had spent months apart. And when he had come back they had crossed a line. Had they gone too far and there was no way back? They had argued plenty since he had come back. But they were also closer than ever. She didn’t want to give that up. In fact, each day seemed to bring her closer to Jorah, not physically, but in her heart. It was a process that seemed irreversible. Suddenly Jorah started to let go of her hand. She held on tighter and opened her eyes.

“I am not going anywhere. I just want to make sure it stays nice and warm in here.” He went over to the fireplace and added some more wood. “Jon said you were cold last night.” He sat back down and retook her hand.

“You two seem to get along nicely.” Much better than he had with Daario.

“He loves you.”

“His heart belongs to someone else.”

Jorah looked at her surprised.

“She’s dead.”

“Oh.”

“He is doing his duty. He is doing what is best for his people. We come from similar circumstances. He, the bastard, me, the sister who was married off for power. We weren’t meant to rule. Our siblings were meant to rule. But we did it anyway. There’s great comfort in sharing that with him. We both had to make sacrifices to get to where we are. Neither of us is good at compromising.”

“That might come with time.”

“Stop it. Please,” she implored. “I can take it from Tyrion, or anybody else, but not from you.”

He nodded in understanding.

“I need you. I need Jon too, for political reasons, just as he needs my armies to fight the war in the North. You I need to make it through this.” She knew the weeks and months ahead of them would be grueling and nothing compared to what they had faced so far.

Again, Jorah nodded. But with Jon in the picture it seemed unlikely that it could ever be like in the old days. And maybe her feelings for Jon would deepen over time. Her relationship with Khal Drogo had started out under much less favorable conditions.

“Am I asking too much?” He loved her and he was willing – again – to watch her be with another man.

“Never.” He couldn’t deny her. He would be whatever she needed him to be, no matter what the cost.

“This isn’t an order,” she clarified. “That would be cruel. This can’t be out of duty.”

He smiled at her affectionately. “It isn’t.” The line between duty and love had blurred for him a long time ago.

* * *

Missandei came back in the late evening. She had checked on them before, but Jorah had assured her that he was fine and didn’t mind. She believed him and knew he treasured each moment with the queen. But when she came back this time she found him asleep on the chair. She gently woke him. “Let me take over again.”

“I am fine.”

“Please get some rest. The queen wouldn’t want you to wear yourself out. It looks like she is sleeping peacefully now.”

“She is a lot better than this morning.”

“Go eat something and then get some proper rest.”

“Did you get some rest?” he asked.

Missandei avoided his eyes. “Some.”

Jorah couldn’t suppress a smile. He rose from the chair. “The next time she wakes try to make her eat more than a few bites. She needs to eat something or she won’t regain her strength.”

“I will.”

“Call me if-“

“I will.”

“No matter what time it is.”

Missandei nodded in understanding.

* * *

“Where is Ser Jorah?”

“He left a short while ago to get some rest. Do you want me to get him?” She was about to rise.

“No. Let him rest.”

“He told me to make sure you eat something.”

“Of course he did,” Daenerys said and rolled her eyes, annoyed and amused at the same time.

When Missandei brought her some soup, Daenerys realized that she was actually a bit hungry after all. “I am sorry you had to stay with me all night,” she said. “You were supposed to have the whole night off and spend it with Grey Worm.”

“It’s okay.” Grey Worm had been very understanding. And due to Jorah’s absence, they had been free to spend the morning with each other. Grey Worm had massaged her sore neck and made sure she was very relaxed before he had focused on other, more sensitive areas of her body.

“I know you missed him a lot.”

Pushing away the daydreams, Missandei turned her attention back to her queen. “I did.” Carefully, she added, “As you did Ser Jorah.”

Daenerys looked up from her soup. Then she lowered her eyes again and said almost in a whisper, “Yes.”

They were both silent, lost in their own thoughts.

“There is something you should probably know,” Missandei said after a while. “I am not sure you remember. You were delirious. And Jon Snow was here. He heard when you called out for Ser Jorah in your dreams.”

“I did?”

“Yes. But you were quite distressed. You were having a nightmare about the Red Waste. So it would only have been natural to call for Ser Jorah as you didn’t know Jon Snow back then,” Missandei offered.

Daenerys smiled at her warmly. Missandei was offering her a way out. She was handing her an explanation why she didn’t call for Jon Snow in her dreams. Was her subconsciousness trying to tell her something? Nothing she didn’t know already. “Indeed. And Ser Jorah is my oldest friend.”

“Indeed.”

“Jon Snow would be a good match,” Daenerys said. She was very interested to hear Missandei’s opinion on the matter.

“Yes, he would be.”

“And he is kind and honorable.”

This time, Missandei replied with slight hesitation. “I think so, your Grace.”

Daenerys looked at her inquisitively. “But?”

“Well…”

“Tell me.”

Missandei tilted her head slightly. “I saw you with Ser Jorah when you were sick. I saw you with him the morning after he came back.”

“We didn’t sleep with each other.” Just in the same bed. In each other’s arms.

“I know.” They had both been too relaxed about the whole situation. Besides, nobody could dress that quickly.

Daenerys waited for her to make her point.

Missandei went on, “You trust him. You are completely at ease in his company. And he is utterly devoted to you. For him you will always come first.”

Again, Daenerys thought, nothing she didn’t know already.

“You are the Queen. Nobody can tell you what to do. I know queens and kings marry to form or strengthen alliances. But if the union isn’t chosen wisely, sometimes the exact opposite is achieved.”

“You don’t think Jon Snow could make me happy?”

“Maybe. But…” Missandei stopped, afraid of saying out loud what was going through her mind.

“I asked for your opinion. My other advisors are all men. They have a different view on things.”

Missandei nodded in understanding and continued, “Could you make Jon Snow happy?”

Daenerys looked at her surprised. She had never given that a thought.

“What if you call his name in your sleep again, when you don’t have a fever? You don’t bend to anybody else’s will. Can your heart bend to your own will?”


	6. Unexpected News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another “longest chapter so far”. It almost doubled in length while I was working on it, but I didn’t want to break it up into two chapters. 
> 
> I am so looking forward to Chapter 7, which will be titled "Tonight". It’s almost finished, just missing some final touches.
> 
> I really appreciate the comments and kudos. You people keep me going. Thanks!!!

_Dragonstone_

Jon had sent word to Winterfell that their arrival would be postponed due to Daenerys’ illness. Nobody wanted her to recover on a cold and wet ship. She had been advised to stay in her quarters and avoid the drafty corridors and halls of Dragonstone. Nobody wanted her to have a relapse. She therefore held meetings in her quarters.

“We shouldn’t delay our journey north much longer,” Daenerys said during one of the meetings. “I am much better and well able to travel.”

“I wish you would wait a few more days, your Grace,” Jorah said. “A ship is not a good place to regain your strength. It’s damp and cold.”

“I agree,” said Tyrion, anticipating her objection. “You would be much more comfortable here.”

“I’ve stayed in my quarters long enough.”

“Besides,” Jorah added, “we can use every additional day to get ready for the trip north.”

Daenerys knew her armies weren’t well prepared for the much colder weather up north. There were more resources in the south than in the north. What they couldn’t acquire now would be even harder to acquire in the north. “We will never be ideally prepared for the conditions in the north,” Daenerys said frustrated.

“Your Grace, I am waiting for a friend to arrive at Dragonstone,” Jon said. “When he heard that our journey was delayed he set out from White Harbor to meet me here. He must be arriving any day now. I would ask you to wait until he arrives and that he can travel back north with us.”

“Fine,” Daenerys relented. “We will wait a few more days then.”

“Thank you.”

Everyone turned to leave.

“Jon, please stay.”

Jon nodded and remained where he was. The others left.

“Have a seat,” Daenerys offered. Jon seemed tense. He had mostly kept to himself the last few days. He had visited her but his thoughts seemed to be somewhere else. At first she had thought that she was the cause, but even during the official meetings Jon seemed distracted. Daenerys didn’t take offense at Jon’s absent-mindedness. She was still trying to sort her own thoughts. During her illness she had felt vulnerable and not in control. Therefore she had felt most comfortable with Missandei and Jorah around. But Jon’s behavior was starting to worry her. Everybody had bad days, but this had been going on for several days now and she truly cared about him.

“I didn’t know my friend was traveling to meet me here,” Jon said apologetically. “He sent the message when he was already leaving White Harbor.”

“It’s not that. You seem distracted. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, there’s just a lot on my mind.”

“Is your family alright?” She was aware that Jon had received a reply from his sister Sansa, but he had not elaborated on the contents.

“Yes, they are.”

“You must be yearning to see your sister and brother again.”

“It’s not that. I mean, yes, I can’t wait to see them, especially Arya. I should have known she’d find a way to survive. She has always been so brave and clever.”

“I am very happy for you,” Daenerys said. Talking about his sister Arya actually brought a rare smile to his face. But despite the good news about his siblings Jon seemed more glum and distant than ever, lost in his own thoughts. Daenerys was worried that maybe his encounter with death had taken a toll on him, a toll he might not even be aware of himself. And it seemed he had no one to talk to. Ser Davos wasn’t exactly the talkative type. “Jon, I’m worried about you. If you want to talk about something-“

“Please, don’t worry about me. It’s nothing, really.” Jon had thought about discussing what was on his mind with her. But she had to focus on getting well again. He didn’t want her to worry about him. Moreover, so far even he didn’t have sufficient information to know if he should be worried or glad. He couldn’t wait for Sam to get to Dragonstone.

* * *

As a reply to the raven Jon had sent to Winterfell, he had received a message back from Sansa a short time later. And another one from Sam.

Sansa clearly disapproved of Jon staying away from Winterfell for so long and had made her displeasure about Jon delaying his return again known. Her reaction didn’t come as a surprise to him. Something else Sansa had written worried him though. She’d had Littlefinger executed. Jon was surprised that she would take such drastic measures without consulting him first. She could have simply locked him up and dealt with him once he was back. But she chose to take action immediately. If Littlefinger had a hand in their father’s death, he deserved much worse than death. But still, it troubled him. He knew Sansa had changed, but this was extreme. It showed that he didn’t really know her anymore. Littlefinger had saved them in the Battle of the Bastards. But it seemed that deed wasn’t worth a pardon in Sansa’s eyes.

But the message that disturbed him even more was the one from Sam. He had traveled to Winterfell and then on to White Harbor to meet Jon. But Sam was now on his way to Dragonstone. When he had found out that Jon and Daenerys’s travel party was delayed, he had found a ship going south and arranged for them to take him along and drop him at Dragonstone.

Jon wondered why Sam would travel on instead of just waiting for him in Winterfell or White Harbor. But when he had read the end of Sam’s message, he couldn’t wait for his friend to arrive: “Bran and I made some discoveries. You are not a bastard. But the rest I need to tell you in person.”

If Jon wasn’t a bastard, his parents must have been married. Was Ned Stark not his father? Why was Sam going to so much trouble to tell him in person? Why couldn’t it wait until Jon got to Winterfell?

Jon was restless and didn’t sleep well. He had come to terms with being a bastard. But Sam’s letter threw him back into the past, relieving his childhood, searching his memories for clues about what Sam might have found out. Jon was curious to find out the truth about his parents but at the same time he also dreaded what news Sam would bring. But in any case he was very much looking forward to see his friend again.

* * *

When Sam arrived at Dragonstone, Jon, Ser Davos, Daenerys, Tyrion and Jorah were waiting to welcome him.

Daenerys was up and about, refusing to be restricted to her quarters any longer. Jorah wasn’t too happy about it, but kept silent as she was indeed almost back to normal. Nevertheless, he intended to keep an eye on her.

“Sam, it’s so good to see you,” Jon said, embracing his friend.

“You too,” Sam replied. His eyes fell on Jorah. “So our paths do cross again. You look well,” Sam said and smiled. He was pleased to see that his efforts had provided a permanent cure for Jorah’s greyscale.

“Thanks to you.” Jorah turned to Daenerys. “Your Grace, this is Samwell Tarly. He saved my life.”

“I will forever be grateful for what you did for Ser Jorah,” said Daenerys. “Tarly? As in House of Tarly?”

“Yes.”

Tyrion looked at her pointedly.

Jon was desperate to hear what Sam had found out. But he didn’t want to discuss it in front of the others. “If you will excuse us, Sam and I haven’t seen each other for a long time. We have a lot to talk about.”

“Of course.” Daenerys dismissed them gladly, hoping his friend’s presence would improve Jon’s mood.

* * *

Neither Jon nor Sam appeared for dinner. It was the first dinner Daenerys was taking together with everybody else again.

“Do you want me to get them?” Jorah asked.

“No, let them be. I am sure they have a lot to talk about. But please have some food sent to Jon’s quarters.”

“Of course.”

Jorah kept watching her during dinner, looking for any sign that she was tiring or unwell.

“I am fine,” Daenerys said, noting his eyes on her.

Jorah just smiled at her. There was no use in denying what he was doing.

“But you may accompany me back to my quarters, in case you are worried I might faint on the way there.”

* * *

“Here we are,” Jorah said when they had reached Daenerys’ quarters.

“Will you come in for a bit?”

“I am not sure that is a good idea.”

“Just to talk. You are still my advisor, are you not?”

“Of course. Do you need some advice?”

Daenerys sighed. “I don’t know yet.” She entered her quarters and sat down in front of the fire.

Jorah watched her with concern. “You are worried about something?” he asked, joining her.

“Not really.” She looked into the fire for a while. “Did Sam ever talk to you about his family?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering. It sounded like you two got to know each other a little bit during your time at the Citadel.”

“Not really. But I wouldn’t mind to get to know him better. I am wondering though why he went to the trouble of coming to Dragonstone instead of waiting for Jon in Winterfell. What I am asking myself even more is why he left Old Town at all. To me it seemed like he was really keen on studying with the maesters. I seriously hope he wasn’t expelled because he helped me.”

“Maybe Jon sent for him.”

“Maybe. But why?” Jorah observed her intently. “You didn’t seem surprised that they didn’t appear for dinner.”

“I think Jon really needed a friend to talk to.”

“Maybe Sam had bad news from Winterfell. And that’s why he traveled here to tell Jon in person,” Jorah said.

“I hope not.” Jon had assured her that wasn’t the case, but maybe Jorah was right and Sam had bad news that could only be delivered in person.

Jorah looked at her curiously. “You know something, don’t you?”

Daenerys shook her head. “I just have a suspicion.” That was one thing she couldn’t tell Jorah. She knew Jon didn’t want other people to know about him coming back from the dead. “But I can’t tell you.”

Jorah nodded in understanding, not pressing her any further on the matter.

Daenerys closed her eyes. She was enjoying the comfortable silence with him and the fire giving off the heat.

“You should get some sleep,” Jorah said after a while.

“It’s still early.” She raised her hand to forestall any objections. “I am well. Stop worrying.” She was feeling fine, but the day had been exhausting for her. She was still tiring more quickly than usual. But she didn’t want Jorah to leave yet. That would leave her alone to think about Sam’s father and brother. She didn’t regret her choices. His father and brother had gone into battle and chosen death over surrender. But she regretted that the outcome had caused Sam pain.

Jorah looked at her slightly doubtful.

Daenerys put her hand on his arm to reassure him. “I am fine. I just…” She sighed. She knew what she had to do. She was just not looking forward to it. “Do you have to be somewhere else?”

“No. I don’t.” She seemed to be in a strange mood. Jorah wasn’t sure if it was because of her recent illness or if it was something else. One moment she appeared to be deep in thought, the next she seemed quite relaxed.

Daenerys was content to just sit with him in silence. She wanted him to stay. She wanted to forget about Sam’s family. Falling asleep in Jorah’s arms, feeling his warmth, would take care of that. But she couldn’t. “I think I will go to bed after all,” she said abruptly and rose. Jorah rose with her. She took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Thank you.”

Jorah wasn’t sure what she meant. “Whatever you need, you just have to ask.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. Then he turned and left.

When the door was closed, Daenerys returned to the chair and stared into the fire. _Can you make Jon Snow happy?_ Missandei’s voice echoed in her head. It was replaced by Jorah’s parting words. _You just have to ask._ Daenerys couldn’t remember a time when she had been more conflicted. Every other decision in her life had come to her rather easily. But with Jorah and Jon she didn’t know what to do.

She did know what the rational decision would be. She knew that if she hadn’t gotten sick, she would have ended up in Jon’s bed and her current thoughts would probably be obsolete by now. But she was also aware that she had gone to Jon, at least partly, because she had been angry at Jorah. She truly cared about Jon. And he deserved some happiness after all he had been through. Could she give that to him? What did he expect from her? Was his interest in her mostly political? She doubted it, even though he had told her about the woman he had lost, who still seemed to have a hold on his heart.

Daenerys knew how stubborn she could be. If she wanted something, she would not be deterred by anyone. Could she force herself to go down one path and never look back when her heart told her to take another? Daenerys longed for a solution to end her inner turmoil. She had never felt so at odds with herself. She was already very familiar with Jorah’s opinion regarding the matter. She knew what Missandei thought. Should she ask Tyrion? Would he offer some new insight into this dilemma? She could well imagine what Tyrion’s advice would be though. Daenerys closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, there were tears in her eyes. She felt like she had already lost something, a part of herself.

She stood up and walked around the room. _Can your heart bend to your own will?_ Could she? Did she want to? _What do you want?_ she heard herself asking. She grabbed a cup from the table and threw it angrily into the fire. “No!” she yelled. She would not be defeated, not even by herself. No one would tell her what to do. She made the rules. She had come this far, always going her own way. Many people had laughed at her, belittled her, insulted her, threatened her, underestimated her and she had proven them all wrong, again and again. She had always trusted her instincts. And she would do so in this case as well.

Jon needed her and she needed him. There was trust and mutual respect. Jon had already bent the knee to her and she was pretty sure it wasn’t just because he liked or needed her. Jon based his decisions on more than that. He didn’t do anything lightly. And he valued honesty beyond anything else. Daenerys would tell him the truth. It was a risk, but a small one. The greater risk was lying to Jon and lying to herself.

* * *

_Chamber of the Painted Table_

Daenerys, Ser Jorah, Ser Davos, Tyrion, Varys, Grey Worm and Missandei were discussing the trip north. The travel preparations had been almost finalized, but they were going over them again, making some more adjustments.

Daenerys addressed Ser Davos. “Jon knows we are meeting now?”  
  
“Yes, your Grace. I told him.”  
  
“Did you talk to him?” Neither Jon nor Sam had been seen all morning. She was starting to get worried.

“No, not really.” Jon hadn’t even opened the door for him.

Suddenly Jon and Sam entered. Jon looked like he hadn’t gotten much sleep.

“Your Grace, we need to talk,” Jon said. “Alone.”

Daenerys raised an eyebrow and looked at him curiously.

“It’s important,” was all Jon offered as an explanation.

“Fine.”

Everyone else in the room started to leave.

“Ser Jorah may stay,” Jon said. He was sure she would want to tell Ser Jorah anyway and the information had been a shock to him. Jon thought she might appreciate a familiar face when they told her.

When the others had left, Jon said, “For now I would prefer if this isn’t communicated any further. Besides, this information is also quite personal.”

Daenerys nodded for him to go on.

“As you know I am a bastard,” Jon started. “I grew up with Ned Stark as my father, but never really knew who my mother was. Sam found evidence of my true parentage.” He nodded for Sam to take over.

“I found a book, the journal of High Septon Maynard, that says that Rhaegar Targaryen’s marriage to his first wife, Elia Martell, was annulled. Rhaegar then married Lyanna Stark. We think… Jon is their son.”

“My brother Bran had a vison,” Jon added. “Ned Stark found his sister, dying in childbirth, and hid her child, claiming it as his own, protecting his true identity.”

Daenerys looked at Jorah who stared back at her. “That would mean…” she started.

“Yes, that would make you my aunt,” Jon finished for her.

“That makes you the son of my older brother and...” Daenerys took a deep breath, trying to comprehend what Jon had just told them.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Jon said.

She nodded. Now Jon’s behavior of late and his absence since Sam’s arrival made sense.

“That makes you the rightful heir to the Iron Throne,” Daenerys said shocked.

“It seems that way. But I don’t care about that. I don’t care about the Iron Throne.”

Daenerys gave him a scrutinizing look.

Jon went on, “My main priority remains to stop the Night Walkers. Besides, it might not be helpful to make my true ancestry known,” Jon said. “If Cersei finds out I have a claim on her precious throne-”

“She already wants you dead,” Jorah said.

“Yes, but she’ll want me dead even more when she finds out.”

“Likely.”

“I don’t think it will be helpful to give her even more reason to come after us. She’ll prepare for an attack after we have dealt with the Night Walkers. But if we provoke her, she might come after us before that. We can’t fight the Night Walkers and Cersei’s armies at the same time.”

“We don’t have to make any decisions right now,” Jorah said.

“I agree.” Jon turned to Daenerys. “I want to make one thing clear. We do what is best for our people. If this new development can be used to our advantage, then let’s use it. If not, then we don’t breathe a word of it to anyone. Agreed?”

She nodded. Jon looked at Jorah, who did the same.

“I would really like to hear Tyrion’s take on this,” Daenerys said.

“Generally, I trust Tyrion, but this could have far-reaching consequences. And he is a Lannister after all.”

“I trust him. And we need to know how the different houses would react to this. That includes Cersei.” She looked at Jorah for confirmation.

Jorah nodded. “Tyrion’s loyalty is to our Queen.”

“Do you want to tell Ser Davos?” Daenerys asked Jon.

“Ser Davos certainly knows how to keep a secret. And he might offer some valuable insight. But no one else, at least for now. The more people know, the greater the risk that it won’t stay a secret for long.”

Daenerys nodded. “Alright. Tell Tyrion and Ser Davos to meet us here again at sundown.” She needed some time to think.  
  
“I will. But…” Jon took Daenerys aside so that they were out of earshot of Jorah and Sam.

“Are you okay?” she asked concerned before he could say anything.

“Yes… well… mostly… I had some time to process this.” Jon wasn’t sure a year would be enough to make sense of it all. “It is somewhat comforting to not be a bastard, to know where I came from, even though it seems my parents’ relationship might have caused a war.” He avoided her eyes. “But… you are my aunt. We almost…”

“Well, you are a Targaryen now. My father was married to his sister.”

Jon looked at her shocked. The incestuous relationships of past Targaryens had always repelled him. Some said Aerys’ madness was a result of that. Being a bastard was one thing, but having parents that were at the same time also your aunt and uncle was bound to mess up a child’s mind even more. “I would never-”

“Relax. I wasn’t serious.” She gave him a warm smile. “I certainly don’t intend to carry on that particular Targaryen tradition.” Turning serious and lowering her voice, Daenerys said, “I am glad that we didn’t…” With a sideway glance she looked at Jorah, who was talking to Sam.

Jon followed her view. And then he saw it. It wasn’t just Jorah. It was her as well. How could he have been so blind? Her relief on the cliffs, their embrace. Their farewell on the beach. Her calling out his name in her fever. It had always been Jorah. Had Jon not wanted to see it? Had Ser Davos and Tyrion’s suggestions blinded him? Or had he just not wanted to see it?

Was Daenerys even aware of her feelings? Jorah had more or less admitted to Jon that he had confessed his love to Daenerys. Had she refused Jorah because she didn’t think he was worthy? Did she really just see Jorah as a friend, as she had professed to Jon that evening in his quarters? Or was she deliberately ignoring her own feelings and had chosen Jon in order to strengthen their alliance? If Daenerys hadn’t been sick, they would have ended up in bed together. Jon didn’t think she had been pretending. There had been some kind of attraction between them. And it could have turned into more. But not any longer.

There was still a connection between them, a different one, but maybe an even stronger one. Just like she had said to him on the beach of Dragonstone, he had grown used to her as well and didn’t want to lose her. “Dany?”

“Yes?”

“No matter what we are to each other now, you are very important to me.”

“You to me as well.”

“I want you to be happy.”

Daenerys regarded him questioningly.

Jon looked towards Jorah. “He loves you more than I ever could.”

She followed his view. Jorah was still talking to Sam and didn’t notice their eyes on him. Daenerys sighed. “He is the most stubborn man I have ever met.”

Now it was Jon’s turn to look at her questioningly.

Daenerys turned her attention back to Jon and smiled at him. “We can talk more later, alright?” There was so much to talk about. But personal matters would have to wait.

Jon nodded.

“Welcome to the family.” She put her arms around his neck and embraced him.

He returned the embrace. “Thank you.” Daenerys’ words did mean a lot to him, even if it wasn’t the family Jon would have chosen. He had grown up with stories about the Mad King and Rhaegar kidnapping Lyanna. But at least he was still partly Stark. Half of his ancestry wasn’t a complete lie. For now that was the part he clung to in order to not lose his sanity. Jon had thought being a bastard had made his life difficult. He had been sorely mistaken.

Jon turned to leave, motioning for Sam to follow him.

“Before you leave,” Daenerys said, “I need to talk to Samwell Tarly. And, Jon, you should hear this too.” She felt she owed the truth to Jon as well.

Jorah walked towards the door, but when he passed by Daenerys, she lightly touched his arm, stopping him. Almost inaudibly, she whispered, “Please stay.”

He gave her a questioning look. It wasn’t an order. It was a request. And there was something in her voice which he didn’t recognize. She seemed tense, almost anxious, which was unusual for her. He nodded. “Of course.”

Daenerys knew Jorah wouldn’t judge her. He had witnessed her rain punishment on countless of men. But Sam had saved his life. But that wasn’t why she asked Jorah to stay. She wanted him to stay for her. Facing Sam, she said, “I just wanted to say that I am very sorry about your father and brother.”

“My father and brother?”

“You don’t know?”

“I haven’t heard from my family since I left for the Citadel,” Sam said.

“They are dead. They were killed in the Reach.” Daenerys looked at Jon. “Drogon… I killed them.”

Jon looked at her appalled.

“I am sorry. I wish… I didn’t want to. I gave them a choice. But they refused. They died honorably and bravely. But it was a waste, especially your brother. But he refused to let your father die alone.”

Sam sat down in one of the chairs.

“You risked a lot saving Ser Jorah’s life. And I will be forever grateful for that. I am sorry for the loss of your father and brother. But it couldn’t be helped.” Would she have still given the order if she had known Sam back then? Would it have made a difference? Would she have followed Tyrion’s advice then? Those were pointless thoughts now, she chided herself.

“I didn’t know,” Sam said. “I need to send a raven to my mother and sister.”

“Of course. Whatever you need, my people will take care of it.” Daenerys turned to leave.

“Your Grace?”

“Yes?”

“You should know that I never had a good relationship with my father,” Sam said. “He thought me worthless. I never wished him dead, but he was a ruthless man.”

“Thank you for your honesty.”

With that she left and motioned for Jorah to follow her. Jon and Sam stayed behind.

Outside the Chamber of the Painted Table, Daenerys stopped for a moment and took a deep, calming breath. She felt Jorah’s hand on her shoulder. “You did the right thing.”

She wasn’t sure if he meant her punishment or her confession. It didn’t matter. Both were done now. There was no undoing the first and the second had gone much better than she had expected. Actually, it seemed like Jon was angrier with her than Sam. It didn’t really surprise her though. She hardly knew Sam at all, but he seemed like a gentle soul. But she had gotten to know Jon. His shocked face showed clearly that he didn’t approve of her actions. He would have to get over it. He couldn’t rule a kingdom wearing his heart on his sleeve like that. “It was such a waste,” Daenerys said. “That’s the problem with honorable men. They don’t know when to yield.”

“That’s what makes them honorable men.”

“In this case it made them dead men.”


	7. Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! This was quite a struggle in the end, probably because I’ve been a bit obsessed and paranoid about this chapter. But I had to publish it at some point, right?
> 
> I also made some minor last minute changes, like ditching a halfway decent dialogue to accommodate Tyrion’s penchant for drinking, which made too much sense to not include it.
> 
> I generally don’t like to write scenes that are likely to come up in the show in Season 8. I don’t even want to guess what the show might do. For me the show is a separate thing. I try to make my story (hopefully) somewhat plausible, tweaking canon to make it fit, if necessary, like with Daenerys’ illness or Sam’s journey to Dragonstone.
> 
> As always, thanks to the reviewers!!!
> 
> But let’s get on with it. Lighting the fuse…
> 
> Let me know what you think.

Neither of them spoke on the way to her quarters. When Jorah had closed the door, Daenerys turned around and asked, “What do you make of this?”

“This is certainly a development nobody saw coming.” 

“I see no reason to doubt what Sam said and Jon seems to believe him. But I am not very familiar with what went on in Westeros after my family fled. Does it make sense to you?”

“It is possible. I don’t think Robert ever found out that Lyanna Stark went with your brother voluntarily. Otherwise he would have never made Ned Stark his Hand or considered marrying Sansa to Joffrey. Ned Stark knew the truth, but revealing it to anyone would have only drawn unwanted attention to his family and to the newborn he was trying to protect. Besides, by the time Lyanna died in childbirth Rhaegar had probably already fallen in the Battle of the Trident. Therefore Ned Stark upheld the lie that his sister was kidnapped to protect not only her son but also his family. And the truth died with him.”

“So you believe it’s true?”

Jorah thought about it for a moment, still not quite sure. It was just so unbelievable. Jon a Targaryen? “Jon certainly has no resemblance to any Targaryen I know. And I don’t just mean the hair.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Daenerys asked with piercing eyes.

“The temper,” he said tenderly, not sure if she would be offended. Jorah loved her temper, even if it made her unpredictable at times. He found it a lovely character trait. But he knew he was completely biased.

She looked at him with wide eyes, not quite sure how he meant it. But the tenderness in his face made her think twice before she said something she might regret later. She knew she had a temper. Sometimes it was a good thing, sometimes it wasn’t. “You are right. He must come more after his mother.”

“I guess if it was anybody else than Sam, I might be more sceptic. But he has no reason to lie, neither to Jon nor to us.”  
  
“I agree. He’s Jon’s best friend.” Since this topic was settled, Daenerys focused on the next thing that was on her mind. “Do you think Jon was honest when he said he doesn’t care about the Iron Throne?”

“Yes, at least for now. But if he has a claim and forfeits it, people could use it to their advantage. It could lessen your claim. Rhaegar was your brother, but Jon is his only surviving son. And he is the King in the North and the head of House Stark. Those are strong claims and strong alliances. Advantages you don’t have.”

“We have the rightful heir to the Targaryen throne on our side.”

“You are remarkably composed considering that there is now a second heir to the Iron Throne.”

“One with a claim stronger than my own, you mean.” She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, daring him to contradict her. “I trust that Jon won’t act rashly.”

“Like he did in the Dragon Pit?”

She looked at Jorah with slight disapproval. Jon’s reaction in the Dragon Pit had indeed been rash. She understood his reasoning and that he couldn’t have acted otherwise, but it had been rash nonetheless. “I trust that he won’t betray me. He is family now.”

“Family betrayals are the worst.”

“I know.” Both of them had first-hand experience in this particular area. “But Jon is fiercely loyal. Even though he didn’t grow up a Targaryen, I believe that us being family might be a stronger bond than if we had married.”

She didn’t seem sad at all that Jon was her nephew. Her ancestors had preferably married their siblings, but for Jon and Daenerys their blood relationship seemed to have changed everything. She was completely matter-of-fact. Maybe he had overestimated her attachment to Jon after all.

“I am curious what Tyrion’s take on this will be,” she said.

Jorah laughed. “Indeed. I wouldn’t want to miss that.”

Daenerys smiled at him. “We meet again at sundown,” she said quietly. She looked out the window. Sundown wasn’t too far off. She walked over to Jorah and took his hands. “Are you willing to listen to me now? Jon is my brother’s son.” Even if past Targaryens had even less reservations about incest than the Lannisters, for her that was unthinkable. She was more than glad that she hadn’t slept with Jon.

“The predicament remains,” Jorah said, but didn’t let go of her hands.

“Jon was someone I could have considered. There is no one else I would seriously consider. Jamie Lannister? Euron Greyjoy?” She smiled at him teasingly. “Besides, I don’t want to. I am done looking for suitors. I am done listening to my advisors when it comes to my love life. I already made my choice.” 

Jorah just stared at her, at a loss for words.

“I trust Jon. He is our ally. Married, related or none of that, he is our strongest ally in Westeros. There is no reason for you to reject me anymore.”

“But you and him-”

“I told you before, I don’t love him and he doesn’t love me. We both gave our hearts away to other people. She is dead. You aren’t.” Daenerys gently placed her palm against his cheek. “You are here. And I want you.” 

Jorah couldn’t move, not that he actually wanted to. He felt her warm hand resting against his skin. There was nothing else but her. He only saw her lovely face and her penetrating eyes. Her eyes radiated hope, trust, love, but also fear.

Placing her hands against Jorah’s chest for support, Daenerys slowly raised herself up on her toes. Ever so slowly she leaned forward, decreasing the distance between them, never breaking eye contact with him, not even when her lips made contact with his. She kissed him softly, almost timidly, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t push her away again. Only when she felt Jorah’s arms around her and his lips moving against hers did she close her eyes and give herself to him wholeheartedly.

Jorah couldn’t resist any longer and he couldn’t think of any reason why he should. He returned the kiss and pulled her close to his body, banishing the rest of the world from his thoughts. Jorah only broke the kiss for a moment to look at her, not quite believing this was really happening. She smiled at him with that beautiful smile he loved so much. He gently brushed his thumb over her lower lip before he kissed her anew. He couldn’t get enough of her warm, soft lips. Daenerys’ arms went around his neck, her tongue demanding entrance to his mouth. Jorah parted his lips willingly.

For a short while, Daenerys was satisfied with his lips on hers, but then she abandoned his mouth and started kissing his neck. She pressed her body against his, feeling his desire against her. She pulled him with her over to the bed. They tumbled down on it, Jorah doing his best not to crush her.

“Wait,” Jorah said, tearing himself away from her lips.

She groaned. “What now?”

“It’s almost sundown.”

“So?” She doubted either of them would last long.

“If we do this now we’ll never make it in time for the meeting.” He wanted to love her properly. He didn’t want their first time together to be some rushed and mindless coupling.

“So?” Daenerys didn’t particularly care. She was the queen. The others could wait for a little while. She moved her hands over his chest, down to his waist and started undoing his belt.

Jorah grabbed both her hands and pinned them to the bed. “I want to take my time with you. I want it to last. And I want to run my fingers through your hair. I doubt Missandei could fix your hair in time.”

Daenerys looked at him with raised eyebrows. Was he really serious? He was. Hopelessly stubborn, that’s what he was. She squinted at him with mock annoyance. “Fine, have it your way.”

He looked at her tenderly and then lowered his lips to hers again, kissing her slowly, not releasing her hands. He couldn’t wait to get her out of those clothes. If they were still in Essos she wouldn’t be wearing such heavy clothing and he would have been able to kiss down to her cleavage. As it was, he had to make do with her throat.

“I thought you wanted us to stop,” Daenerys said amused, not opposed to his actions in the least. What he was doing to her neck felt wonderful. She turned her head sideways to give him better access. 

“In a moment,” Jorah said in-between kisses.

Daenerys’ breathing became irregular. She needed to touch him. Pulling one of her hands from his grasp she placed it behind his neck, caressing him there, but at the same time pulling him even closer to her.

Her hand was distracting him, weakening Jorah’s resolve to leave the rest until later. “Stop doing that.”

“Telling your Queen what to do?” she asked teasingly.

Jorah stopped what he was doing and looked at her with affection. “One word from you and-“

“I don’t mind. I tell you what to do all the time.” 

“I don’t mind.”  
  
“I know.”

Jorah smiled at her and kissed her once more. Sitting back up, he pulled Daenerys up with him. But before he could stand up, she stopped him. He regarded her questioningly.

Looking at him longingly, she said. “Tonight. Promise me.”

“I promise you, Khaleesi.” 

“Say my name,” she whispered pleadingly.

For a moment Jorah stared at her with a mixture of disbelief and wonder. Then he nodded. “Tonight, Daenerys. I promise you.”

* * *

Daenerys and Jorah were the last ones to arrive to the meeting. Jon, Sam, Tyrion and Ser Davos were already waiting for them. 

Jon only needed to take one look at Daenerys and knew something was different. She seemed much more composed than before, almost relaxed. But her eyes were determined. She walked past him to her chair, giving him a reassuring smile. Jorah on the other hand, wouldn’t meet his eyes. That was a first.

Tyrion and Ser Davos looked at one another, both aware that what was about to be said had to be a serious matter. It wasn’t just the secretive manner in which Jon had told them of the meeting, but also the fact that Varys, Grey Worm and Missandei were missing from it.

While Ser Davos was mostly focused on Jon, Tyrion noticed the strange looks between the Queen, Jon Snow and Ser Jorah, but didn’t quite know what to make of them.

When Daenerys was seated, she said, “What is about to be said here will not leave this room. Unless we, Jon and I, together, decide otherwise.” She looked at Jon for confirmation that this was his wish as well. He nodded his approval. Then she looked at Tyrion and Ser Davos.

“Understood,” Tyrion said.

Ser Davos nodded that he was also in agreement.

“Good. Then Jon and Sam will explain the situation to you.”

Jon nodded for Sam to tell the others what he had discovered. While Sam relayed what he and Bran had found out, Jon held Daenerys’ eyes wordlessly. Again, he marveled at how composed she seemed, whereas his thoughts were still in disorder. He’d already had a whole day to get used to the idea of being not just a Stark but also a Targaryen, but it was difficult to take in. At the moment he wasn’t sure he would ever feel normal in his own skin again.

When Sam was finished, Ser Davos only raised his eyebrows.

Tyrion looked back and forth between Daenerys and Jon. “I am glad I haven’t had that much to drink today,” he said. “Otherwise I would not believe what I just heard. But then again, this is even too crazy for me to dream up. You Targaryens are always good for a surprise, aren’t you? Please promise me I can be present when you tell my sister.”

“We’ll try to accommodate your wishes,” Daenerys said.

“But at the moment, revealing this does not give us an advantage,” Jon added.

“It would only put Jon in greater danger,” Daenerys said.

“And Daenerys’ claim on the throne is legitimate. We don’t need to reveal a second Targaryen heir. It might drive Cersei to do something desperate,” Jon said.

“For some it might be easier to accept a Targaryen who also has northern blood running through his veins,” Ser Davos said.

Jon could think of several houses that weren’t keen on following Daenerys, including his own and House Mormont.

“I agree,” Tyrion said. “But for a lot of people this will seem quite far-fetched. All we have is a piece of paper and Bran’s vision.” He looked around the room doubtfully. “Do we believe that Bran’s visions are always accurate?”

Jon looked at Sam. They had discussed this at length in private. Sam had told him how much Bran had changed and that he was not really Bran anymore.

All eyes turned expectantly to Sam, who nodded. “I believe him.” Seeing that Tyrion and Ser Davos had obviously expected more than that, Sam went on. “Bran told me about Jon’s parents before I told him about what was written down in the High Septon’s journal. His vision was very detailed and personal. He saw everything once he knew what to look for. It’s not that unlikely that Rhaegar and Lyanna had a child. And I don’t think the journal is forged. We discovered it by accident.”

“I doubt the northern houses would even need proof of Jon’s ancestry,” Ser Davos said. “They already made him King in the North, a bastard. They don’t care about his ancestry. Why would they start to care now? They are just reluctant to enter into a bigger war. They have no interest in King’s Landing and what is going on in the south. If Cersei comes north to attack, they will unite behind Jon no matter what his claim is.”

“Still, it can’t hurt to try to find more proof, so that if and when we choose to make it known, there will be no doubt about it,” Tyrion said. “And if we want to defeat Cersei, we will need more than the northern houses.”

“As Jon has said before, the most imminent threat is the Night King,” Jorah said. “It is a threat that unites us all. Fighting them doesn’t require one absolute leader.” Jorah could hardly imagine anyone else but Daenerys on the Iron Throne after all this time. But he had to admit that Jon’s claim was legitimate and he did have the advantage of being from Westeros and from the North. House Stark was well respected. Also, just like Daenerys, Jon was a born leader. But if Daenerys fought besides Jon to defeat the Night King, it might help restore some trust into her Targaryen heritage, trust that was destroyed by her father’s reign.

Jon nodded. “I agree. For this fight, we don’t need to reveal what we know. It might only become a distraction from the threat in the north. It might divide houses. We can’t risk that now. We need to stand together to fight the dead.” Jon lowered his head and added quietly, “If we lose that fight, nothing else will matter anyway.”

Daenerys’ eyes met Jorah’s.

“You really know how to end things on a high note,” Tyrion said with sarcasm. “I need a drink.”

“I think I could use one too,” Jon said.

“You probably need it even more desperately than me,” Tyrion said, glad that he had found a drinking companion. He started walking towards the door. “Anyone else?”

“Sure,” Sam said and got up as well.

“Count me in,” Ser Davos said and made his way over to the door.

They all turned to Daenerys and Jorah, who hadn’t moved at all.

“I don’t want to spoil your fun,” Daenerys said.

“I think the Queen can make better use of her evening than spend it with us getting drunk,” Jon said. With Jorah traveling with the Dothraki on land, they would not have much time left to spend together. Jon gave Daenerys a subtle smile and then looked at Jorah, who didn’t quite know what to make of Jon’s statement.

Daenerys returned Jon’s smile. She didn’t care who knew about Jorah and her. It wouldn’t stay a secret for long anyway. But she was not willing to discuss it in front of the others, at least not yet.

“Ser Jorah, will you join us?” Sam asked.

“Mormont is a spoilsport,” Tyrion said. “He never even smiles. We’d be better off inviting Grey Worm and Missandei. They could practice their joke telling skills.” By now Tyrion thought he had figured out what was going on between the Queen, Ser Jorah and Jon Snow. He wasn’t entirely in favor of this new development, but he had a feeling he could do nothing about it, not anymore. He should have seen it coming though.

Everyone seemed to be satisfied with this explanation and Jon, Sam, Tyrion and Ser Davos left to find something to drink.

Daenerys stood up and looped her hand through Jorah’s arm. “I’ve seen you smile,” she said softly. She loved his smile. It made his eyes sparkle and he seemed carefree for a moment. Jorah didn’t smile often enough. When he did though, he mostly did it for her.

They walked towards the door and were surprised to see Tyrion standing outside the Chamber of the Painted Table, seemingly waiting for them. “Your Grace, can I have a word with you?” he asked.

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I thought you desperately needed a drink?”  
  
“Duty before pleasure,” Tyrion said.

Daenerys rolled her eyes and sighed. She gave Jorah a frustrated look and let go of his arm. Jorah continued walking until he was out of earshot, but waited for her within sight.

Daenerys turned to Tyrion. “Go ahead then. Make it quick,” she said.

“Do you think this is wise?” He glanced towards Jorah.

“I am done with everyone else telling me whom to invite into my bed.” She looked pointedly at Tyrion and then at Jorah. “Unless the White Walkers stand in front of the gate, I will not be disturbed tonight.” And with that she left Tyrion standing there, making it clear that the conversation was over.


	8. Second Chances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize. I know I left you hanging. I meant to update this earlier. But this was another one of the being obsessed/paranoid chapters. And there are lots of later chapters that still require a lot of work, which provided a welcome escape in this case. But here it is now. One chapter of fluff, bordering on smut, but nothing explicit, just implied.
> 
> Currently I would say there are at least another six chapters to go.
> 
> As always, big thanks to the reviewers!!!

As soon as the door was closed, Daenerys turned around to look at Jorah. Her heart was beating rapidly. For a moment, they were just lost in each other’s eyes. Then Jorah took a step towards her. Daenerys put her hands around his neck. In one quick motion, Jorah swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, kissing her before he put her down gently.

Jorah lay down next to her, looking into her eyes, gently caressing her cheek. “Are you sure?”

“You can’t be serious,” she exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I have never had such trouble getting a man into my bed.” Daenerys put her hand behind his neck and gave him a tender look. “Moreover, a man who claims he loves me.” She pulled him down towards her and kissed him.

Jorah returned her kiss eagerly.

His warm lips on hers were wonderful, but he wouldn’t move beyond that. “Jorah, you promised,” she reminded him with impatience.

“And I fully intend to keep that promise.” He looked at her lovingly. “I just can’t quite believe this is really happening.”

Daenerys gently stroked his face. “I want you to know that I didn’t make this decision after Jon told us about my brother and Lyanna Stark. I made my decision last night. Jon’s revelation today was just a lucky coincidence. I would have come to you tonight anyway. And this time I wouldn’t have accepted a no from you.”

“And I wouldn’t have been able to resist you.” Jorah lowered his lips to hers and kissed her with more passion, entwining his fingers in her hair. He then moved from her lips to her throat. He only stopped to undress her. At this moment he absolutely hated these heavy clothes. It would take ages to get her out of all those layers.

Daenerys stilled his hands. “Wait.”

“What? Is this your revenge for earlier?” 

“No.” She smiled at him and got up. “Stay there.”

“Who is giving orders now?” Jorah teased, but did as he was told.

“Trust me. I think you will appreciate it.” Daenerys walked over to the fireplace. She took off her coat and then her shoes, her dress and her pants were next until she was completely naked. Daenerys looked at him affectionately. Silhouetted against the fire she stood like that for a few moments, giving him time to appreciate the view. Then she started undoing her braids until her hair was completely free of the restraints. Slowly she walked towards him.

“You are the most beautiful and incredible woman I have ever met.”

“You have seen me naked three times now. I haven’t seen you naked once. What do you intend to do about that?”

Jorah unfastened his belt and pulled his tunic over his head. Next he started to untie his shirt. “You have already seen the scars,” he warned her. He wasn’t a vain man, but she hadn’t yet seen the full extent of his scars and he felt compelled to remind her of his condition.

She put her fingers over his lips. “I don’t care what the scars look like. They remind me that I almost lost you and that I got a second chance.”

“We both got a second chance.”

“I am just sorry you had to go through it because of me.”

“You? That wasn’t your fault,” Jorah protested vehemently.

“Wasn’t it? I sent you away and you contracted this dreadful disease.”

“Shush.” This time he put his fingers to her lips. “You had no choice. You had to-”

Before he could say anything else, she kissed him fiercely and then pulled his shirt over his head. 

Jorah pulled the furs and blankets back. He lifted her into his arms and put her on the bed. Then he quickly got rid of the rest of his clothes and lay down next to her, pulling the blankets over them. Suddenly, he was unsure what to do. She was still his Khaleesi, his Queen. Was this actually real? Jorah reached out to stroke her cheek. His hand was trembling slightly. Would she disappear if he touched her? He stopped his hand in midair.

Daenerys watched him attentively. He seemed hesitant. Was his hand shaking or was it just the flicker of the candles and the fire? She took his hand and kissed his fingers like he had done so many times before. Then she placed his hand on her hip. His hand was so warm and the warmth spread from where his skin touched hers to the rest of her body. Jorah started to move his thumb against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

Her skin was so soft, much cooler than his though, probably from standing in the cold room without any clothes. Moving his hand from her hip to her back he pulled her against him, willing his warmth into her. At the same time, his lips descended on hers. They were both lost in the kiss until Daenerys had to break it to take a deep breath of air. Jorah used the opportunity to focus on her neck, remembering how her breathing had increased when he had kissed her there before. And indeed, his actions were rewarded with a soft moan from her.

If he continued at this speed he would drive her crazy. But with his lips moving against the sensitive skin of her neck it was hard to form a clear thought, let alone find the willpower to make him stop and direct him otherwise. Daenerys was almost glad when he placed a single kiss on her shoulder and then on her collarbone. Taking his face in her hands, she stopped him from moving further down her body. “Please, Jorah. I want you.”

“I want you too. You have no idea how much I want you.”

“Good. We can do slow later.”

* * *

Daenerys was lying in Jorah’s arms. His eyes were closed. She gently caressed his chest, tracing the zigzag pattern of his scars with particular care. “You were right.”

“About what?”

“We would have never made it to the meeting. I wouldn’t have been able to make it out of bed.” Moreover, she didn’t want to let go of him just yet. She was glad that Jorah had stopped them earlier.

He opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to look at her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” There had been a moment when she had tensed slightly. He had stopped, but she would have none of that, urging him on.

“No.” Their joining had been passionate and intense, but gentle. “It’s just been a while.” Suddenly something occurred to her. She turned in his arms, supporting herself on his chest to be able to look at him. “I didn’t sleep with Jon.” Jorah’s confused expression told her that her suspicion had been correct. He had assumed she had slept with Jon. “I mean… we almost did… I would have…”

“You don’t have to explain.” 

“I know. But I want you to know. The night I got sick, when I had dinner with Jon, I did kiss him. But suddenly I felt weak. I almost fainted. Jon took me back to my quarters.” 

“I encouraged you.” And Jorah had known where it would lead eventually. It had cost him many sleepless nights. “I have no right to feel jealous.” But he couldn’t deny that her admission pleased him a great deal.

“Still, I just wanted you to know.” Daenerys lay her head back down on his chest. “I haven’t been with anyone since I left Essos.”

Jorah hadn’t been intimate with anyone for much, much longer, which hadn’t bothered him too much. He was well capable of taking care of his own needs. But what had been difficult was to touch no one at all, especially not her. “After I contracted the greyscale I didn’t really touch anyone, except for you in the fighting pit – with my good hand – and Sam shaking my hand after he had healed me. But except for those instances you were the first person to really touch me again. You have no idea how good your embrace felt when I came back.” For so many reasons, he thought.

Daenerys pushed herself up on her elbow and looked at him stunned, tears forming in her eyes. To be deprived of human touch for so long. She gently caressed his cheek. Jorah closed his eyes and savored her touch.

“It meant the world to me that you actually wanted to touch the scars,” Jorah said, his voice almost deserting him. He was convinced that most people would be repelled by his greyscale scars. But she hadn’t been, not even for a moment.

Daenerys didn’t know what to say. She was overwhelmed. She had only considered the physical pain of the greyscale before, never the emotional pain he had suffered. “I just wanted you back. I…” Words were failing her. She leaned over him and kissed him.

* * *

Daenerys woke. It was still dark. She reached for Jorah. But he wasn’t in bed. “Jorah?” Had it all just been a dream?

“I’m here.” He had restarted the fire, not wanting her to get cold or sick again. And then he had stayed there because he didn’t want to wake her. Too many things were going through his head.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. It was starting to get cold in here. I just restarted the fire. Go back to sleep.”

“Come back to bed. You can keep me warm.”

He gladly obliged. Joining her under the blankets, he wrapped her in his arms. “Dawn is still hours away. Sleep.”

What a waste, she thought, and roamed her hands over his chest. She wanted him again. “I can sleep on the ship, when you are not with me.” She already dreaded being apart from him. Her hands wandered even lower, feeling his desire for her.

Jorah groaned. He had never wanted anybody so much in his life. They should have both been dead tired. But she was right. They would be traveling separately to Winterfell. He always hated being apart from her, but now only the thought of being separated from her made him anxious. He rolled them over so that he was above her and kissed her, first gently, then more passionately.

Daenerys moaned and pulled his body against hers. “I want you.”

“You have me. You’ve always had me.” He softened his kisses.

“Please, Jorah.

“Remember when you said we could do slow later. This is later.” He leisurely placed kisses on her neck and then her cleavage before focusing on her breasts.

“Jorah…”

“Patience.” He knew that patience wasn’t one of her strong points. But this time he wanted to take it slow. He wanted to make good use of the limited time they had left together.

* * *

_The next morning_

Jorah was dressed and sat on the bed. He took her hand, stroking her fingers tenderly. “I better get going.”

“Missandei knows you are here. She won’t disturb us,” Daenerys said still half asleep.

Jorah smiled. Missandei was the last person he was worried about. He had the feeling that if anybody approved of them being together it was Missandei.

“Jon knows. Tyrion knows.”

He was touched that she didn’t care who knew about them. Jorah raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I have to leave. There is a lot left to organize if we want to depart tomorrow. I have a meeting with Jon and Ser Davos to go over the route and camp locations again.” The logistics of traveling with such a big army were a nightmare. Resources in the north were limited as it was.

“I wish you wouldn’t ride with the Dothraki.” 

“I am your general.”

“Yes, but they would follow anyone to Winterfell if I told them to. They just need someone to show them the way.”

“Maybe.”

She knew she couldn’t change his mind. She could order him and assign someone else, but that wouldn’t be right. Daenerys had a feeling he would take his duties only more seriously now that their relationship had become intimate. “What was your true motive for suggesting it? I want the truth.”

Jorah sighed. “Partly – but only partly – to remove the temptation, for both of us. And I wasn’t too keen on seeing you and Jon together. The thought of being in close proximity to the two of you, with nowhere to go… I wasn’t really looking forward to that. But first and foremost, I serve as your advisor and general. I have built a good relationship with your khalasar.”

She nodded in understanding. He placed a kiss on her forehead and wanted to get up. But Daenerys didn’t let go of his hand. She raised herself to a sitting position, letting the blankets fall to her waist, exposing her breasts.

Jorah’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. “I do have to go,” he implored. 

“I know.” Slowly she leaned forward and kissed him deeply. Daenerys knew they probably wouldn’t see much of each other all day. There was still a lot to sort out before they could leave. She finally let go of him. “Tonight?”

Jorah nodded. “Tonight.”

* * *

Daenerys was on her way to meet Jon and Sam when she ran into Tyrion. 

“I repeat my question,” Tyrion said. “Do you think this is wise?”

“I do not owe you an answer. You are here to advise me.”

“Well then: I don’t think it is wise,” he rephrased. 

“Incidentally, so did Ser Jorah.”

“Really? The first fight he lost then. Although I think his heart wasn’t quite in it, or rather too much,” Tyrion said mockingly. 

“That’s enough!” 

Trying a different approach, Tyrion said, “He is-”

“A disgraced lord? A liability?” Daenerys had heard it all before from Jorah himself. 

“No. That’s not what I was going to say.”

“What then? That he is older than me?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Did you not marry Sansa Stark?”

“Neither of us had a choice. And I never touched her,” Tyrion said defensively.

“Why is it alright to marry off young girls to older men for power, men they often don’t even know? But when I freely choose my closest friend, the man I trust most in this world, a man who would give his life for mine, he is suddenly too old for me?”

“Well… I…”

“I seem to remember that it was you who advised me that you had never seen a more devoted man. Have you changed your mind?”

“No.”

“Are we done with the advising then?” Her tone made it clear that there was only one acceptable answer. 

“Yes, your Grace.” Tyrion decided to keep quiet and not reveal what really bothered him. He knew she was way beyond listening to him or anybody else regarding this matter.

“Good.”

Tyrion watched her leave and sighed. Strategically, Jorah certainly wasn’t the wisest decision. But Jon was out of the question now. And there were not many suitable matches left for her, none that were worth the trouble anyway.

Tyrion should have seen it coming though. He had seen them grow closer since Jorah’s return. He knew she had very strong feelings for Jorah, but he thought they were just friends. Then again, considering their history together, what they had been through and overcome together, Tyrion had to admit that this development might have been inevitable. It had probably just been a matter of time.

Jorah was the one person the Queen relied on unconditionally. He had saved her life several times. He had stayed by her side while she was married and while she took Daario as a lover. He never wavered. Besides the single exception of his betrayal Jorah had not given her one reason to doubt him. And the closer she got to the Iron Throne, the more perilous her surroundings became, the harder it was to trust, to distinguish between friend and foe. Whom better to trust than her best friend? When it came to Daenerys’ wellbeing, Jorah probably was the best choice for her. Everybody else had their own agenda. But Jorah would always put her interests first to a fault.

Still, their relationship worried Tyrion. But his main concerns were neither of the ones Daenerys suspected. Tyrion was worried about their power dynamics. As Varys had said, she might need someone to keep that Targaryen temper of hers in check. And nobody would be more likely to achieve that than Jorah. But if he was sharing her bed, would he still be able to do that? Would he be able to say no to her?

Tyrion’s other concern was that Jorah was her most trusted advisor, even if Tyrion was her Hand. And with what was to come she would need Jorah more as her advisor and friend than as anything else. Their making their relationship intimate was bad timing. If it didn’t work out – which wasn’t that far-fetched considering her temper and his stubbornness – she might be left without her most valued advisor and best friend again. Tyrion had been able to pick up the pieces before, but he wasn’t sure if he could do so again.

He sincerely hoped the Queen and Ser Jorah would be able to manage those pitfalls. They were two of his favorite people. They deserved some happiness. They had both been alone for a long time. Daario didn’t count.

But these weren’t happy times. Tyrion couldn’t remember one love story with a happy ending in all of this bloodshed. Ironically, his brother and sister might have come the closest, at least for a while. But happy was certainly not the word that came to Tyrion’s mind when he thought of them now.

What worried Tyrion the most though was something that was beyond anyone’s control and he prayed would never come to be. If something happened to Jorah, Daenerys would lose her lover, her advisor and her best friend all at once. That might be a blow she might not recover from. Or it might drive her over the edge, beyond the reach of anyone’s counsel.


	9. I Should Get My Own Dagger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was about 80% finished when I started posting this story. Even though it might seem like it, the plot was never meant to give the story a different turn like it does now. I added the issue with the Dothraki rather late to Chapter 4 (and after I had written this chapter) and then had to go back to subsequent chapters and adapt them to make it consistent.
> 
> After posting this chapter, there will be longer breaks between chapters cause they are not as well fleshed out as the earlier chapters. But here's a short outline of where this is going:  
> The next two chapters (10 & 11) are just a lot of conversations between characters while traveling north. And then we will pick up in Winterfell (Chapter 12), where we’ll meet Sansa and Arya again and eventually also Jamie and Brienne. 
> 
> Also, I’ve finally decided how I want to handle the Night Walkers. So that’s one big obstacle out of the way. Just needs to be written now.
> 
> I would really love to finish this whole thing before Season 8 starts. But the story is getting longer and longer. Therefore I have my doubts that will actually be possible.
> 
> But let's get on with it. Enjoy!

_At night, Dragonstone_

Jorah was in Daenerys’ quarters, more precisely, they were lying in bed, quietly enjoying each other’s closeness. The fire was only giving off a glimmer by now.

They had hardly seen each other all day and they would be apart for about two weeks. Their joining had almost been desperate, the complete opposite of the night before. The hesitations of the first night were gone. They had hardly spoken a word to each other since retiring to her quarters. They had let their eyes, lips and hands do the talking.

But just like the first night, Daenerys didn’t want to let go of him. She wanted to be as close to Jorah as possible, to feel his warmth, to feel the rise and fall of his chest, to feel his hand caressing her back. It was weird and she didn’t fully understand it, but it felt incredibly familiar. There was an intimacy as if they had done this countless nights before. Daenerys had never felt like this with anyone in the past. Drogo had been passionate, but there had been no finesse. She had discovered her own body with him and discovered that she liked the pleasures of the body a lot. Daario had been creative and playful. But Jorah was passionate, skilled, gentle and loving. To be with someone she knew so well, who knew her so well, and whom she trusted so much was a powerful experience. With him there was a deeper connection. It was more than just a joining of bodies.

Jorah still felt like this was a dream. He was afraid he would wake up and find her gone. He dreaded leaving her in the morning. Then again, maybe spending some time away from each other wouldn’t be so bad. This had gotten much too intense much too quickly. Jorah had only been able to concentrate on his tasks during the day because he had a lot of practice with forcing his mind to focus. It had surprised him how easily their relationship of Queen and advisor had translated into the bedroom. They had always been able to understand each other just with looks. But using that form of communication on this new found level of intimacy was almost scary.

Daenerys stretched her body and then settled back against his chest.

“We should get some sleep,” he said.  
  
“You give good advice, Ser Jorah. I knew there is a reason you are my most trusted advisor.”

“Will you not take my advice serious anymore? Now that we are…” What were they? He didn’t know. But he didn’t particularly care either.

“No. I do expect you to tell me what you think, just as before. In that regard nothing has changed.” She kissed him tenderly.

Suddenly Jorah stiffened.

“What’s wrong?”  
  
“I thought I heard something.” He sat up, motioning her to be silent.

The next moment the door opened and a dark figure stormed towards them, sword drawn. Jorah’s sword was too far away, so was his dagger. He pushed Daenerys behind him and tried to deflect the attack as best as he could. He tried to grab the attacker’s sword by the hilt before he could strike, but in the dark it was difficult to see and it happened too quickly. Jorah felt the blade make contact with his hand and arm. He threw himself against the attacker, both of them tumbling to the floor.

Jorah couldn’t see Daenerys anymore. He wanted to tell her to run, but wasn’t sure if there were more attackers in the hallway. Trying to take the sword from the assailant seemed to be a futile attempt. With his bleeding hand he couldn’t get a good grip on it and his opponent showed no sign of letting go. But Jorah knew that if he let go he was defenseless. He tried to kick his opponent but was too close to do real damage. He managed to subdue the attacker, pushing him to the floor. Jorah quickly looked around the room, searching for something he could use as a weapon or a shield. He was surprised to see Daenerys standing close by holding his dagger. If he took it from her though, he wouldn’t be able to keep the attacker under control at the same time. And they were too close for her to safely deliver a strike, at least not without injuring him in the process as well. Gambling that Daenerys was prepared to do what needed to be done he let his opponent get the upper hand. As soon as Jorah felt his back touch the floor, he pushed the attacker as far away from his own body as possible and yelled in Dothraki, “Aim for the heart!”

Daenerys wasted no time and delivered a deathly strike straight to the attacker’s heart. The man collapsed onto Jorah who pushed him off quickly, making sure he was no threat anymore. Then he grabbed Daenerys. “Are you alright?”  
  
“Yes.”

“Stay away from the door. Put on some clothes.” He kept an eye on the open door and put on his pants, then quickly grabbed his sword. Carefully looking out into the hallway he saw two dead guards. “There has been an attack on the Queen,” Jorah yelled into the hallway. “Guards!”

After quickly putting on her robe, Daenerys lit the candles.

As soon as the first guards arrived, Jorah gave his orders. “Wake everyone. Search the whole castle. There might be more than one intruder. Post ten guards outside the Queen’s quarters and let nobody through you don’t know. The rest search the castle and make sure that Jon Snow and our other guests are unharmed.”

“Jon,” Daenerys said in panic. He might have been a target just as much as she was.

“He’ll be fine,” Jorah tried to reassure her. “He can take care of himself.”

Missandei was the next to arrive. She went immediately to Daenerys’ side. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. But Ser Jorah is hurt.” She walked over to him and inspected his hands and arms. He had a deep cut across his right palm and on his left forearm. “Get me some cloth,” she said to Missandei.

Only a few moments later Jon arrived, sword drawn.

“Thank the Gods you are alright,” Daenerys said.

“I am fine. Are you?” When she nodded he looked at Jorah. “They said there was an attack on the Queen.”

With his head Jorah motioned to the dead man lying on the floor.

“These cuts are deep,” Daenerys said to Jorah. She grabbed the cloth Missandei handed her and wrapped it tightly around his hand and arm, trying to stop the bleeding. “They need to be treated properly.”

“It looks worse than it is,” Jorah said. At the moment he hardly felt a thing, he was still in battle mode.

Jon observed Jorah, who had his back to Jon and didn’t notice his looks. Jon couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scars all over his torso. Daenerys had never told Jon why Jorah had been away but now seeing the scars he thought he knew what had happened. Sam would know. He would ask him later.

When Daenerys was finished bandaging Jorah’s wounds, she noticed Jon staring. She looked at Jon displeased until he averted his eyes.

Jorah put on his shirt, oblivious of Jon and Daenerys’ silent exchange. “We have to make sure there are no more attackers. I doubt he was the only one.”  
  
“I agree,” Jon said. “It’s unlikely someone would only send a single person.”

“Ser, we found two more intruders,” one of the guards reported. “One was killed and the second one jumped off the wall. Nobody would survive that.”

“Keep looking. Search everywhere twice," Jorah said. “We can’t afford to make another mistake. We need to find out how they made it so far into the castle in the first place.”

“You are not blaming yourself, are you?” Daenerys asked.

“I am responsible for your safety.” Two nights ago she had been sleeping alone. Jorah didn’t even want to finish that thought.  
  
“And without you I would be dead now. I am fine. He didn’t even touch me. Because of you. You did your job.”

“I agree,” Jon said. Without Jorah Daenerys wouldn’t have survived the attempt on her life. “I am glad you were with her.”

The next ones to arrive were Tyrion and Ser Davos. When Tyrion saw the dead man on the floor, he looked at Jorah. “Well done!”

“I didn’t kill him.” He looked at Daenerys. “By the way, great aim, your Grace.” His look showed the deep admiration and love he had for her. If she hadn’t been so fearless and calm, the situation could have ended very differently.

“Well, you had your hands full.” She smiled at him and said, “I think I should get my own dagger.”

It certainly couldn’t hurt, Jorah thought. He would ask Gendry to make one for her.

Tyrion looked from the Queen to Ser Jorah and back. They were both bloody, him more than her though. But they seemed calm and composed, much more than all the other people in the room. Tyrion marveled how they still maintained the appearance of Queen and servant so easily and naturally. At the same time the intimacy between them was almost palpable. The former was probably second nature to their relationship by now and had only been expanded to also accommodate the latter. Everybody in the room was aware of the turn their relationship had taken recently and not just because of their scanty clothing or the rest of their clothes lying on the floor, which made it pretty clear that they had been intimate not too long ago. But they both radiated authority in their own right, being only focused on the problem at hand. Tyrion was rather impressed. It was quite an accomplishment to manage that balancing act.

“Should we still sail for Winterfell in the morning?” Ser Davos asked.

“Yes, the Queen will be much safer at sea,” Jorah said.

“And we really shouldn’t postpone the trip again,” Jon added.

“But you won’t ride with the Dothraki,” Daenerys said to Jorah firmly.

Jorah looked at her surprised.

“Not with those wounds,” she clarified.

“She is right,” Tyrion said. He was sure Jorah could manage, if it was necessary. But it wasn’t and he needed to rest before the upcoming battle.

“And who will lead the Dothraki?” Jorah asked.

“Let Ser Davos and Gendry do it,” Tyrion suggested.

“They don’t speak Dothraki,” Jorah said.

“The khalasar just needs to follow them,” Daenerys pointed out.

“I don’t like it,” Jorah replied.

“They will manage,” Jon said. “And Ser Davos speaks for me. It carries more weight in the North anyway.”

They all looked at Ser Davos who shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

“A khalasar is not exactly easy to handle,” Jorah said. “If it was the Unsullied, I wouldn’t be worried. But without any means to communicate with the Dothraki-“

“I will translate for Ser Davos,” Missandei said.

“What? No, it’s too dangerous,” Jorah objected.

“What’s dangerous? I am not a target like the Queen,” Missandei said calmly. “And I am certain Ser Davos will make sure nothing happens to me.”

“No, I will not let you ride in my stead. That is out of the question.”

“I thank you for your concern, Ser Jorah. But I would very much like to see the lands in the north.”

“Are you sure?” Daenerys asked her. “It will be a strenuous journey. And cold.”

“I will be fine.”

Jorah and Daenerys looked at each other. Grey Worm would be livid.

“No,” Jorah said. If something happened to Missandei he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. It was just two stupid cuts.

Daenerys was starting to lose her patience. “Enough!”

Jorah stared at her, knowing she was about to make a final decision. He implored her with his eyes not to order him to go by ship.

Tyrion observed Jorah with admiration. So much for his worry that Jorah wouldn’t be able to say no to the Queen any longer. He should have counted on his stubbornness. But of course the Queen always had the last word.

Daenerys held Jorah’s eyes unwaveringly. She didn’t want to send Missandei either, but the image of him falling off his horse because of his wounds made her sick to her stomach. The cloth she had wrapped around his left arm was already soaking through. In Dothraki she said, “I need you when it counts. We are not going to war yet.”

“Exactly. I can sit on a horse.”

“It’s unnecessary.”

Missandei wanted to reassure Ser Jorah that she would be alright. She wasn’t the biggest fan of ships anyway. They made her feel caged in. But she knew better than to get in the middle of their argument.

Daenerys was aware that Jorah’s pride and honor would not allow him to let Missandei ride in his stead. If she ordered him against his will, they would have a problem. But he didn’t leave her much of a choice. She had to find a compromise. She continued in Dothraki, “What if Grey Worm rides with her? Will that put your mind at ease?” It would put her mind at ease as well.

Jorah looked at her questioningly.

“You are right, the Dothraki have a problem with discipline. The Unsullied don’t. Grey Worm doesn’t need to lead them for the trip north. If he accompanies her, will you agree to travel by ship?”

Jorah looked from Daenerys to Missandei, who nodded. Jorah nodded as well.

“I will explain it to him,” Missandei said in Dothraki.

Daenerys switched back to the common tongue. “Agreed. Ser Davos has command of the Dothraki. Missandei will act as translator and Grey Worm will join them as well. He will be responsible for Missandei’s safety. But he is also familiar with the Dothraki. Therefore, Ser Davos, I suggest you make use of him if you need advice. Now since that’s settled will someone please get Samwell Tarly to tend to Ser Jorah’s wounds?”

“I will get him,” Jon said.

“Please be careful. Take some guards with you.”

Just when Jon was about to walk out the door, one of the guards came back. “We searched everything twice. There were no more attackers.”

“Well, we don’t need any of them alive to tell us that Cersei is behind this,” Jon said.

“Maybe it wasn’t Cersei,” Tyrion said.

Everybody looked at him.

“She saw the wight,” Tyrion said. “Why would she kill the Queen now?”

“She assumed we were more focused on the fight up north. And she was right,” Jorah said. “She saw it as a good opportunity.”

“Without the Queen, her Dothraki army would go back to Essos,” Tyrion said.

“I doubt Cersei knows how a khalasaar works,” Daenerys said.

“Maybe it was Euron,” Jon said. “To gain Cersei’s favor.”

“He said he would stay on his islands and wait until this is all over,” Daenerys said.

“He’s a true Greyjoy,” Jon said. “He’s too power-hungry to just sit back. It’s not their nature.”

“It doesn’t matter who it was. They weren’t successful,” Daenerys said. “And we are sailing north tomorrow. You should all get some more sleep.”

“I don’t think I can sleep after this,” Ser Davos said.

“Well, I know just the trick,” Tyrion said. “I have some wine that works wonders in that regard. Care to join me?”  
  
“Yes, I would. Thank you.”

* * *

“I don’t have any of my books or herbs with me,” Sam said. “I left everything in Winterfell.” He had stitched Jorah’s cuts and was applying a mixture of ground plants to help with the healing. Sam had scoured the whole castle for herbs, even the kitchen.

“Before we leave tomorrow I will go out at first light and see if there is anything useful growing on Dragonstone.” From what Sam had seen when he had first arrived he didn’t have very high hopes though. But he didn’t intend to let Ser Jorah die of a sword wound after having healed him of greyscale.

Daenerys accompanied Sam to the door. “Thank you, Sam. Thank you for not taking your anger at me out on Ser Jorah.”

Sam looked at her aghast. “I would never do that, your Grace. Besides, I am not angry at you. If at all, I am angry at my father and brother.”

Daenerys smiled at him.

Sam looked at her with scrutiny. She had blood on her face and her clothes. “Did you get hurt?”

“No, I don’t have a scratch.” It was all Jorah’s blood.

“Good. Well… then… good night, your Grace.”

* * *

“Are you really alright?” Jorah asked when Sam was gone and they were alone again.

“Yes, I’m fine. I highly doubt there will be a second attack tonight. And there are ten guards posted outside this door.”

She did look fine. She looked like the warrior princess she was. Her hands were bloody and there were some streaks of blood on her forehead where she had pushed her hair out of her face. “You don’t seem too concerned by this incident,” Jorah remarked.

Daenerys shrugged her shoulders. “I knew you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

I wish I had your faith in myself, Jorah thought. The only thing he was afraid of was failing her.

“Does it hurt much?” Daenerys had seen how deep the cuts were. But the biggest danger was that he would develop a fever from the wounds. She was glad that Sam had been here to take care of them.

“It’s tolerable.”

Daenerys got a bowl with water and a cloth to clean the remaining blood from his skin.

“You are aware that I will never let you sleep alone again,” Jorah said seriously.

“Who gave you the idea that that was an option?”

Jorah looked at her amazed. She was completely unfazed by the incident. “You are incredible.” She had grown so much and become a remarkable woman.

“You are my strength. Always have been,” she said sincerely. It was true. She had been afraid for him but knew he would not let anything happen to her. They had been in worse situations. A single assassin was not going to upset her. And she knew it wouldn’t be the last attempt on her life.

When Daenerys was done, she quickly washed off the blood from her own hands, arms and face and blew out the candles. She made sure Jorah was well covered by the blankets. “Will you be able to sleep?” she asked, tenderly stroking his face.

He turned his head so he could kiss her palm. “I think so. The herbs are helping.” At first they had burned a bit, now they were numbing the pain, masking the stinging of the cuts with warmth that was starting to spread beyond the cuts. He trusted that Sam knew what he was doing.

* * *

Daenerys stayed awake throughout the night, watching Jorah and listening to his breathing carefully. She had lost Drogo to a simple wound. That frightened her more than the attempt on her life or the fight itself. One could see and defeat assassins. But silent killers like festering wounds or greyscale were a different story.

When the sun rose Daenerys rose as well, packing the last of her things in a trunk. She wanted Jorah to sleep as long as possible, but she had to wake him soon. They could both get some more sleep on the ship.

She kissed him and stroked his face with her hand, checking for a fever. Relieved she noticed nothing unusual. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ll be alright.” Jorah sat up and looked at her closely. “You look tired.”

“I didn’t really sleep.”

He looked at her questioningly.

“I am not used to worrying about you,” she said.

“Don’t.” He kissed her softly.

“I can’t help it.” Gently she took his bandaged hand and said almost inaudibly, “Drogo died of a wound like this.”

Jorah pulled her closer. “No, he didn’t. He was poisoned by magic.”

“The blade could have been poisoned.”

“I will be fine,” Jorah said confidently. “I feel strong.”

Daenerys moved to sit astride him, put her arms around his neck and kissed him frantically. She pressed her body against his. “How strong?”

“Strong enough.”


	10. Sailing North - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter. With almost exactly 5,000 words it’s the longest chapter so far and twice as long as some of the earlier chapters. So hopefully that makes up for the longer than usual wait.
> 
> I finally dared to introduce Varys to this story. It was either now or never. And I think it might not be the last time he will show up in this story.
> 
> Let me know what you think.

_On the ship to White Harbor_

“Did you tell the crew to put my trunk in your cabin?” Jorah asked.

“Yes,” Daenerys replied.

Jorah looked at her like he wanted to say something.

“Is something wrong? Was I too presumptuous?”

“No, but…”

“Didn’t we agree I wouldn’t be sleeping alone?”

“It’s just…”

“That we should keep separate quarters for appearances’ sake?”

“Yes.”

“Everybody on this ship is aware of our relationship and it would be a waste of space. There are not many cabins to start with. Or do you rather want to share with Tyrion?”

Jorah grinned at her. “Of course not.” He had grown to really like Tyrion. But Tyrion just wouldn’t stop talking.

“It can still be arranged,” she said, trying to put on a serious expression. “You don’t have to agree just to please me.”

“I have spent enough time in close proximity to Tyrion Lannister to last me a life time.” Jorah took her hand and pulled her closer.

Daenerys went willingly and leaned against him. They were about to set sail and she was glad that they would have a few days to get some rest and to collect their thoughts. No fighting, no ravens, no bad news.

“You should get some sleep, Khaleesi,” Jorah said.

She took a step back and frowned at him. “I wish you would use my name when we are alone. Why won’t you?”

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean anything by it. It will take some time to get used to it.”

“I guess I have no reason to complain as it’s my own fault.”

“Hush.” He tilted her head towards him. “I love saying your name, Daenerys. I am just a bit out of practice.”

Content with his answer, she smiled. “I was just about to lie down.” Carefully, she took his bandaged hand in hers. “You should rest too.”

“I’m fine. I got enough sleep last night.” The truth was that his wounds did hurt. The herbs were starting to lose their effectiveness. Jorah knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, only when he was dead tired or Sam changed his bandages and applied new herbs to numb the pain. He wouldn’t mind lying down, but he wanted her to get some undisturbed rest.

* * *

Jorah was looking out over the sea. Daenerys was still below deck and sleeping. He was concerned how emotional she had been this morning. Her lack of sleep had probably played a part in it. But he was wondering if Tyrion had been right. Was their being together a good idea? He was glad he had been with her when the assassin had tried to kill her. But she worried too much about him. She should be focused on her goal and nothing else. He wanted to help her, not distract her.

“Tyrion was right,” Jon said, interrupting Jorah’s train of thought. “You do glower a lot.”

“You must be looking forward to going home,” Jorah said.  
  
“I am,” Jon said. “Although it feels strange now. It is still my home, but different. What about you? Will you go to Bear Island?”

“No. There won’t be time.” And he didn’t know if he was welcome there. Besides, he wouldn’t leave Daenerys. “I am curious. My cousin Lyanna swore allegiance to House Stark. How is she?”  
  
Jon smiled. “I have never seen someone as young, determined, courageous and level-headed as her. She’s quite remarkable.”

“Did you know she was named for Ned Stark’s sister?”  
  
“I assumed as much.” Jon was silent for a while, lost in his own thoughts. Then he said, “Neither my sister nor your cousin were in favor of me coming to Dragonstone.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Several. And a natural dosage of caution.”

“Trust doesn’t come easily anymore.”

“Nobody in the North wants the Lannisters on the Iron Throne after what they did. But being the daughter of the Mad King isn’t helpful.”

“She is _not_ like her father.”

“They don’t know that. They don’t know her at all. But the Iron Throne is a problem for later. If we don’t stop the Night King nobody will have to worry about who sits on the Iron Throne.” Jon was glad that they were leaving the Iron Throne far behind them the further north they sailed. Politics wasn’t his. He didn’t like the lying and the scheming. Fighting was all he knew. “I will help her reclaim the Iron Throne. One reason being that I am not cut out for it and I honestly want nothing to do with it. But I won’t rejoice at helping her. People on the Iron Throne don’t live long and happy lives.”

Jorah and Jon were standing there for a long time, looking out over the sea towards Westeros.

“My two most trusted Lords.”

“Khaleesi,” Jorah said and slightly bowed his head. She looked rested and smiled at him with clear eyes.

Daenerys moved to stand between them. “What are we looking at?”

“We’ve just passed Claw Isle,” Jon said and pointed it out to her. “If the weather stays like this we should reach White Harbor in good time.”

Daenerys moved slightly towards Jorah, seeking the protection of his body against the wind.

“Are you cold, Khaleesi?”  
  
“No, I’m fine.”

Nevertheless Jorah moved his body sideways, so that she would be better protected from the wind. She had fully recovered from her fever. But she wasn’t used to this climate and it was windy and damp on the ship.

Drogon and Rhaegal were following the ship, flying close to the coastline.

“They look like they are enjoying themselves,” Jorah remarked. He felt Daenerys lean against him.

“They like when we are on the move,” she said. “But I doubt they will like the colder temperatures up north.” The wind chill was freezing, but her clothes protected her rather well. She was seeking Jorah’s closeness. She was indulging. They were far from Dragonstone, Winterfell or any other formal setting.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go below deck and keep Sam some company,” Jon said and left them. He could feel they wanted to be alone. They seldom had the opportunity to be so casual with each other. Daenerys seemed totally at ease, Jorah not quite as much. He took his cues from her.

Jorah moved so that he stood behind her and wrapped his cloak around her, essentially hiding her from view.

“I like the sea,” Daenerys said. “It’s so quiet.”

“Quiet?” Jorah asked amused. The wind was howling, the waves were crashing against the hull, the ship was creaking and the crew was shouting instructions at each other.

“I guess quiet is the wrong word. Everything seems so far away, so small, so insignificant.”

“I know what you mean.”

They stood like that for a long time, looking out over the water, slowly watching Westeros go by.

Daenerys wished, mostly for his sake, that they would pass Bear Island. But she was aware that his beloved island lay on the other side of Westeros and they would not get to see it. She had looked up Bear Island on a map a long time ago, wanting to know where he came from. “Tell me about your home,” Daenerys said. “Tell me about Bear Island.” 

Jorah looked at her surprised, but then he started telling her. He was astonished how easily the memories from so long ago came back to him. “I still remember the smell of freshly felled trees, the resin, the pine. The sound the falling trees made when they crashed to the ground. The sound of the crackling fire. When I close my eyes I can see every hallway, every room. I remember my father sitting in his chair, listening to his people’s problems. I remember the smell of food when a great feast was being prepared. The preparations started days before the feast itself. Those were good times. I remember the sword practice. I was always looking forward to it. As the only son, the only child of my father, I was expected to do better than everybody else.”  
  
Daenerys gently squeezed his hand.

“It wasn’t a burden. I saw it as a challenge. My father encouraged me, telling me I could always do better. It was easy for me anyway. The fighting was always easy. The other duties expected of me, not so much. I am a good soldier, a good fighter. But I was never meant to be Head of my House. Lyanna was born to be. From what Jon told me she is a true leader, a natural. Never doubting herself. Just like you. She is worthy of calling herself the Lady of Bear Island. She is the impersonation of Bear Island. Brave, fierce, proud, fearless, unwavering.”

Daenerys could hear it in his voice, feel it in his posture, how proud he was of Lyanna and how much Bear Island meant to him even though he hadn’t set a foot on it in so many years. And suddenly she knew it. The feeling he invoked in her. The feeling she’d had when Jorah had first held her in his arms at night. The feeling she had every time he was close to her. She turned around in his arms. She had to raise her head slightly to look into his eyes. “You are my home.”

“What?” Jorah looked at her, not sure he had heard her correctly.

“I feel at home with you. No matter where we are. We’ve traveled so far together. I made it back to Dragonstone, but I have no memories of the place. I felt relieved and triumphant when I finally felt the sand of Dragonstone under my feet. But it was not the same as coming home. I reached a goal, a milestone. It was victory. But it didn’t feel like home. It was even bigger and more impressive than in my imagination. But the halls were empty. There were no memories at all. It never was my home to begin with. It was just a dream. But when you came back to me that felt like I found myself again, like a missing part of myself had returned. It’s hard to explain. But it’s like you describe Bear Island. It’s memories, feelings, smells. When you came back I was assaulted by all those. You are my home.”

“As you are mine,” Jorah barely managed to utter. He was about to lean down to kiss her, but caught himself at the last moment. They were after all on deck and anybody could see them.

Daenerys smiled at him and stroked his cheek. “Later,” she mouthed. And then she turned around again, watching Westeros go by.

* * *

Varys eyed them suspiciously.

“You look like something is bothering you,” Tyrion said.

“The Queen and Jorah Mormont, how the hell did that happen?” Varys asked.

“Very gradually, I would say.”

“This isn’t just about some fun in the bedroom, is it?” She wouldn’t have picked Jorah for that.

Tyrion pretended to think about his answer for a moment before he said, “No, I don’t think so.” Tyrion knew so.

“Why did I only find out about it last night?” After the attack on the Queen all of Dragonstone knew that Jorah had been with her. Admittedly, it had most likely saved her life.

Tyrion grinned and shrugged his shoulders. Varys wasn’t as much behind as he thought he was. But there was no need for him to know that. Besides, the signs had been there. They had all just been too focused on other things.

“What happened at the meeting the day before yesterday?” Varys asked.

“Nothing of importance.”

Varys looked at Tyrion, obviously not convinced at all. “Why am I being kept out of the loop?”

“It’s nothing personal.”

“How can I do my job if I am excluded from council meetings?”

“If I told you, I would betray her trust in me. So stop asking.”

“I will find out eventually.”

Tyrion knew Varys was the best when it came to information and secrets. Maybe he should keep his own drinking to a minimum for the time being, just in case. “Well, if you do. Keep it to yourself.”

Convinced that Tyrion wouldn’t give anything away, Varys returned to their earlier topic. “He is a liability. He will bring her down.”

“Since when are you so melodramatic? Yes, politically speaking he isn’t the wisest choice. But without him, she would have been killed last night. And it wasn’t the first time he saved her life. It probably won’t be the last. At least she is safe with him.

“From bodily harm at least.”

“If she dies, this whole undertaking is over.”

“He is making her weak,” Varys insisted.

“He is doing the opposite. You wanted her to be more compassionate.”

“I said she needed to listen to her counselors, not to someone who whispers in her ear when nobody else is around.”

“Whispering is your job. And I admit that you are the best. But maybe you’ve done it for far too long and now you see deceit wherever you look.”

“What would you have me do? Trust people?” Varys asked with contempt in his voice.

“Maybe once in a while,” Tyrion suggested, although he didn’t believe for one second that Varys would follow this particular advice. “She makes her own decision, always has. We need to support her, give her options and help her retain her compassion so that she will make the right decisions.”

“Compassion? That’s your solution?” Varys asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Tyrion said with confidence. “What was the Mad King missing? What was Joffrey missing? What is Cersei missing?”

“Compassion,” Varys conceded.

“And she has that compassion. But how is she supposed to hold on to it surrounded by bloodshed, conspiracies and betrayal?”

“Betrayal? Now that’s an interesting word you chose there,” Varys said. “He betrayed her once. What makes you think he won’t do it again?”

“Do I have to remind you that you relayed the information to Robert? You are just as guilty in this case. Besides, he would rather die than betray her again.”

“That is a very bold statement. When faced with death, most men chose to live and pay whatever price necessary.”

“Not him,” Tyrion said with conviction. “Not where she is concerned.”

“You really are a romantic at heart, aren’t you?” Varys said with pity and a hint of disgust.

“One of my greatest faults,” Tyrion admitted.

“That little whore made you weak.”

Tyrion gave him a look that clearly showed he didn’t approve of Varys using that term, even if every single word was true.

* * *

After dinner, Jorah was getting ready for bed. It was still early but he was worn-out and tired. In the morning he had been quite rested. But now, at the end of the day, his arm and hand were aching.

Daenerys had observed how Jorah had gotten more and more weary and sore as the day had progressed. He must have been in pain all day but now he wasn’t able to mask it anymore. At least he didn’t show any signs of a fever. “Sam said he’ll come by and change the bandages and apply fresh herbs,” she said. He didn’t even give the slightest sign of acknowledge that he had heard her.

Jorah tried to unfasten his belt but his hand started to shake from the pain. “Damn it!”

Daenerys walked over to him. He let her help with the belt, but when she tried to help him with his tunic he turned away from her.

“Don’t.”

“Are you angry at me?”

“Angry? No. Why?”

“For not letting you ride with the Dothraki?” Had she hurt his pride? But there was no way she would have let him ride like that. She would have only worried constantly. She was glad that the others had backed her up. Her last option would have been to threaten to ride with him, leading the Dothraki herself. She knew Jorah would have relented then.

He looked at her apologetically. “I am not angry at you. I am angry at myself.”

“You saved my life,” she reminded him with a hint of frustration.

“It shouldn’t have come that far in the first place.”

Daenerys realized that she wouldn’t be able to convince him that it hadn’t been his fault. She tried again to help him undress, but he wouldn’t let her.

“I don’t want you to do that. You are my Queen.”

She sighed. Exasperation was written all over her face. “I understand that you are not used to anyone helping you. You took care of me while I was sick. I hate to see you in pain. Please let me help you.” Daenerys had to make a conscious effort not to order him. She really wanted to order him to get it over and done with. But she also wanted to show him that she was not just his Queen anymore. “You saved my life. Let me at least spare you some of the pain.” Daenerys reached out to stroke his face. “Besides, I like to be close to you, to touch you.” She knew he couldn’t resist her touch. They both knew.

Even though he had lain skin to skin with her, the light touch of her fingers against his cheek was all he could feel at that moment, making him forget about the pain throbbing in his arm and hand.

She moved her hand lower to caress his neck. “No one can survive in this world without help. _You_ told me that.”

Jorah looked at her surprised.

She gave him a playful smile. “I do listen to your counsel.” Her fingers played with the hair at the back of his neck. “But can you follow your own advice?” Eventually she felt him relax. “Sit down. I am not tall enough.”

Jorah finally relented. He sat down on a chair and let her help him undress. When Daenerys had gotten down to his shirt, there was a knock at the door.

“Your Grace, it’s Samwell Tarly.”  
  
“Come in.”

Sam was holding a bowl containing the mixture of herbs.

“I’ll leave him in your care,” Daenerys said to Sam. Then she turned to Jorah again. “I’ll go and find Jon. Try to get some rest.” She caressed his cheek one last time before she left them. She hoped the herbs would take effect quickly and he would be able to sleep.

* * *

Jon and Daenerys were sitting in the mess hall. Everything was quiet by now. Nobody else was around. There was one candle lit between them and two cups filled with wine. They had been talking for quite a while, Jon asking her questions about her family.

“I wish I could tell you more about Rhaegar, but I only know what other people have told me. If Ser Barristan was still with us he could have told you all about him,” Daenerys said with sorrow in her voice. “I wish I had spent more time with him while he was in my service.”

“In this world people you care about die too quickly and without warning,” Jon said. “You bid them farewell thinking you will see them again soon, not knowing it will be the last time you ever see them. When Ned Stark and I parted ways – me going to the Wall, him going to King’s Landing – he told me the next time we would see each other he would tell me about my mother.”  
  
“But it never came to that.”  
  
“No,” Jon said bitterly. “Maybe he didn’t even intend to tell me truth. Maybe he just wanted to tell me some story so I would stop wondering. I’ll never know now.” He took another swallow of his wine. “It’s funny. I had just gotten used to being a bastard. Or maybe I just stopped caring. Or people stopped caring that I was a bastard. And now?” He looked around, making sure nobody else was there, and said quietly. “I am not a bastard after all.”

Daenerys just watched him and listened.

“It feels good not to be one. But to find out my whole life was a lie… And I still don’t really know who my parents were. I don’t care if they were legally married. To know they loved each other and wanted me is the greatest gift. But I wish I had known them. Even if I had only known Lyanna as my aunt, to have memories of her…”

Daenerys reached out and squeezed his hand. “You made a life for yourself. You didn’t let yourself be constrained by what you thought your heritage was.” Daenerys knew about constrains. Her brother Viserys had been hers.

“I did. For a long time I did. Only after I left Winterfell I felt free to leave all that behind as well. The Night Watch certainly wasn’t what I had expected. It was quite disappointing at first. But after a while it became so much more than I had expected.”

“Is that when you met _her_?”

Jon took a deep breath and sighed. “Not immediately.”

“Tell me about her,” Daenerys said.

Jon was quiet for a long time.

Daenerys understood. She had not wanted to talk about Jorah when he’d been gone. It had been too painful. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about her. I understand.”

“Her name was Ygritte.”

Again, Jon was quiet for a long time and Daenerys thought that would be all he would reveal to her, but then he did go on.

“She was a Wilding, a free woman. Freedom was worth more to her than anything else.”

“I think I would have liked her.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. She wouldn’t have kneeled to anyone. The Free Folk don’t kneel to anyone, they would rather die. They don’t even kneel before their own king.”

“You admire them,” Daenerys realized.

“I lived with them, pretended to be one of them. And then I betrayed the woman I loved for something I believed was greater than her or me. And we both paid dearly for it. I am not saying she would have lived if I had made a different choice. Most likely it wouldn’t have changed the outcome. I will never know.” Suddenly Jon laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“She used to say something to me: _You know nothing, Jon Snow_. It seems she was right. She was always right. How I wish she was here now. She’d taunt me, provoke me, insult me. And it would make me feel better. And if her words wouldn’t be enough, she’d probably hit me. Or shoot me with an arrow.”

He seemed so lost. Daenerys felt for him, but didn’t know how to make it easier for him. “I can hit you,” she offered.

“Thanks. But it wouldn’t have the same effect.” Not wanting to talk about Ygritte anymore, Jon changed the topic. “How is Ser Jorah? He seemed to be in pain at dinner.”

Daenerys rolled her eyes. “He’s being his usual stubborn self. Sam changed his bandages after dinner, so hopefully he is getting some sleep.”

“Jorah suffered from greyscale, didn’t he?” Jon asked carefully.

“Yes.”

“Sam said it was a close call.”

“Yes.” Daenerys looked into her wine. The dark liquid was moving slightly with the swaying of the ship. “He almost took his own life. The treatment could have killed him as well.”

“He is strong.”

She looked up from her wine. “And stubborn.”

“You said so before. You said he is the most stubborn man you have ever met.”

“It’s one of his best and his worst qualities.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“About you and Ser Jorah.”

She nodded for Jon to continue. That conversation was long overdue.

“I know he’s loved you for some time.”

“How do you know?”

“I asked him. He didn’t deny it.”

Of course Jorah wouldn’t lie about this. He didn’t have a problem with proclaiming his love for her no matter who else was present.

“He made me believe there was nothing between you and him,” Jon went on. “I would have never… if I had known it was mutual between you and him…”

“I didn’t mean to deceive you. I deceived myself.”

“When you called his name when you were sick that should have made me think. But you were having nightmares from long before we even met and you had just told me he had saved your life countless times. So I didn’t give it any further thought. And you really had me convinced with your _He’s my best friend_ speech.”

“He is. I didn’t lie to you.”

“Well, if you didn’t lie, then you certainly left some things out.”

“We have a complicated history.”

Jon looked at her with raised eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

“I almost had him killed at one point. Another time I did nothing when someone held a sword to his throat in the fighting pits. I could have stopped it. But I didn’t.”

“That seems hard to believe.”

“I know.” The thought sent a chill down her spine.

And then Jon asked the question he had been meaning to ask her all along. “Why did you agree to have dinner with me?”

“Why not?”

“You know what I mean.”

“You mean why did I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“Because I wanted to.”

“But you love him. You loved him when you came to me.” By now Jon was sure of it.

“In case you haven’t noticed, you are quite a good catch. You are not exactly bad looking. And you are the King in the North.”

“So he wasn’t worthy enough?” Jon asked confused. As soon as he had said it, he regretted it though. The hurt in her face showed plainly that he’d offended her. “I’m sorry. It was something Jorah said that made me-”

“Of course, _he_ would say something like that.”

“He believed there was something between us.”

“There was something between us,” Daenerys said. She was wondering if the attraction she had felt back then had something to do with their blood relationship. Maybe Drogon had also felt it when he had let Jon touch him.

“There was _more_ between you and him,” Jon said.

Daenerys avoided his eyes.

“I can hardly blame him for wanting you. He’d be a fool, if he didn’t.”

She looked up and smiled at him, silently thanking him for the compliment.

“And he is a good man.”

“He said the exact same thing about you.” She was more than glad that Jorah and Jon were getting along so well after all this.

Taking her hand, Jon said, “I am not judging you, Dany. I would just like know. Don’t I at least deserve the truth?”

“Yes, you do.” She had always meant to tell him the truth.

“Why come to me? I had already bent the knee. What more could you have wanted? You already promised your armies to help us fight the Night Walkers. Did you think you had to add yourself to the deal? Or was it just curiosity?”

“It was a combination of all that, sealing our agreement as well as genuine attraction. That brooding charm of yours is quite intriguing.” Daenerys looked at their hands. She knew she was stalling. Jon must have realized it as well, as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze of encouragement. She took a deep breath before she went on. “He rejected me.”

Jon looked at her with disbelief, not sure he had heard her correctly. “He… what?”

Daenerys shrugged her shoulders. “I told you. He can be very stubborn.”

“Stubborn? I’d call that stupid.”

“He was afraid his past would taint my future.”

“I see. And now?”

Daenerys grinned. “I am stubborn too.” She quickly became serious again and looked at Jon intently. “I want you to know one thing. Jorah and I, we were never intimate with each other before we found out about you being my nephew.”

“But afterwards,” Jon pointed out, smiling at her. It was his way of letting her know he didn’t begrudge her the happiness she had found.

Before Daenerys could reply she saw Jorah entering and coming towards them.

“Here you are.” Jorah had woken up with her still gone and wondered where she was at such an hour.

“Sorry, I kept her,” Jon said.

“She has a mind of her own.” Jorah took off his cloak and wrapped it around her. “Just make sure you stay warm,” he said to her. The nights were terribly cold.

When Jorah turned to leave, Daenerys sneaked her hand out from under the cloak and grabbed his good hand. In Dothraki she asked, “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t be long.”

Jorah knew Jon needed the company more than he did. “Stay as long as you like. He needs you. And I am going right back to sleep anyway,” he said in Dothraki. He raised her hand to his lips and placed a soft but lingering kiss on her fingers.

* * *

When Daenerys finally came to bed, she tried not to wake Jorah. But he turned around and opened his arms to her. Mindful of his injuries, she nestled against his chest, enjoying the closeness and the warmth he was giving off.

“How is Jon doing?”

“He has good days and bad days.”

“It’s a lot to take in.”

“It’s like he has to reinvent himself. He’s a born leader but everybody always told him he couldn’t be anything because he was a bastard.”

“And suddenly he finds out he is the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“I think it is the right thing to keep it secret for now. Not just because it would weaken my claim and endanger his life even more. But this way he has more time to get used to it. If he doesn’t come to terms with this new situation when everybody else finds out… I am worried how he will cope.”

“He will rise to the occasion if need be. Like you said, he is a born leader.”

“Since when do you have so much faith in people?”

“Not people. Targaryens.” He could feel her smile against his chest.


	11. Sailing North - Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As announced, this is another chapter for the trip north. And since this chapter became too long I had to split it and there will be a Part III before we finally arrive at Winterfell.
> 
> This chapter is very Jorah/Daenerys heavy with one small appearance by Varys and another one by Tyrion.
> 
> The chapter is dedicated to the person who took the time to write a review for the last chapter. It's very much appreciated.

They had managed to not speak a single word with each other since Jorah's return. At council meetings they had to be in the same room. They had acknowledged each other with looks, but never talked to each other. It suited them both fine. And Jorah didn't see any reason to change that. Varys was of a different opinion though.

"How are the wounds?" the spymaster asked.

"Fine."

"You saved her life."

Jorah remained silent. He could have left, but he had a feeling it would only postpone the inevitable. "What do you want?"

"I am not the enemy."

"You switch sides like the wind."

"You have fought for Robert as well, spied for him."

"You almost got her killed," Jorah spat.

"Robert gave the order."

"He couldn't have done it without you. Only your network reaches that far. Or do you deny it?"

"I don't deny it. I was in the service of the King. But I was counting on you to know why Robert would have no further use for you."

"You had no way of knowing I would act on it after I had my pardon," Jorah pointed out.

"Your messages became less frequent and shorter every time. You didn't seem that motivated anymore."

"You were willing to take that chance."

"This is getting us nowhere," Varys said condescendingly. "I am trying to help her. But if you advise her against me-"

"She makes her own decisions. If you haven't figured that out yet, you don't know her very well."

"Then why was I not invited to the meeting?"

"If it _had_ been up for discussion I would have advised against inviting you. I won't even pretend I trust you."

"Fair enough." Varys shrugged his shoulders. "Trust is overrated anyway."

Turning towards the sea, Jorah kept silent, hoping this conversation had finally come to an end. He wasn't sure if he was angrier at Varys' involvement in the attempts on Daenerys' life or that his presence reminded him of his own betrayal. In any case he didn't trust Varys.

"Will you stand aside if it becomes necessary?" Varys asked.

Jorah tensed visibly. So this was why the spymaster had approached him in the first place. Slowly he turned to face Varys again. "I will do anything to keep her safe."

"Anything? Meaning…?" Varys raised an eyebrow.

Jorah took a step closer towards the spymaster. "Anything."

* * *

The weather was horrible. It was windy and raining. The ship made all kinds of noises. The waves were crashing against the hull. The planks were creaking. And Jorah was reading.

"How can you read in this weather?" Daenerys asked.

"It helps me stay focused." The swaying of ships had never bothered Jorah. Maybe because he had grown up surrounded by the sea. And storms were a common occurrence in the north. He loved the winter storms. "There should be one or two more books in my trunk, if you want to give it a try."

Daenerys eyed him with skepticism. She wasn't sure it would work for her, but she went over to his trunk and picked a book. It opened to a page. There was a piece of paper lying inside it. Had Jorah used it as a bookmark? She unfolded it and found a letter, addressed to herself. She started reading.

"Did you find them?" Jorah was sure he had taken at least two books with him. She had her back to him and didn't answer. "Daenerys?"

She turned towards him and had tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked concerned.

Daenerys got up and walked over to him, holding out the letter.

It only took Jorah one second to realize what it was. "You weren't meant to read this," he said tenderly. "I wrote it before Sam told me about the cure."

"I knew it was close." He had told her as much when he had come back. "And you told me you would end your own life before…" She trailed off, swallowing. She had never imagined that it had been that close before he had been cured. "Would you have ever told me?"

"Told you of the letter?"

"Told me that you love me."

Jorah looked at her confused, not able to follow her train of thought.

"You told me outside Vaes Dothrak when you revealed the greyscale. And you wrote it in this letter. Both times you were convinced you would die. Without the greyscale, would you have ever told me?"

"I told you in Meereen," Jorah reminded her softly.

Daenerys thought about it for a moment, not sure if she wanted to go down that path. "Same thing."

"I didn't think I would die."

"Didn't you?" she asked with a smile, but quickly turned serious again. "I thought you would say anything to get away with it."

"You thought I lied?"

She sighed. "No, but how could I have trusted anything you said in that situation?" Daenerys realized that she didn't really want an answer to that. "It doesn't count," she said with determination, giving him a look that told him to drop it. It had been an extreme situation, hardly a place or time for a declaration of love. She had heard the words, but she hadn't let them get to her.

Jorah slightly bowed his head in agreement.

"So the question remains. Would you have ever told me?"

"No," he said honestly and without hesitation. Jorah had never planned on telling her. Because he knew it couldn't go anywhere. And because he truly believed she would never feel the same. Only when he had thought he would never see her again he'd had the courage to tell her. It had been rather selfish.

But Daenerys had known anyway. What he did for her went far beyond loyalty. "Words are overrated. It's actions that count," she said and kissed him softly. "And you've shown me every day since the day I met you." Daenerys took his book away and sat astride his lap. She kissed him again. "Now let me show you."

* * *

Daenerys lay in his arms. She was playing with the fingers of his good hand, careful not to touch his arm or put too much strain on it.

"I'll make it up to you once the cuts have healed," Jorah said.

"Make it up to me?" she asked amused. "Couldn't you tell that I was enjoying myself very much?" His injuries meant they had to be more careful. He was limited in his movements, but she didn't mind at all doing most of the work. The alternative was to be abstinent. And neither of them felt that was an option.

"A true Khaleesi," Jorah said and kissed her. But then he turned serious. "I need to ask you something. It's been on my mind for a while. But I never thought I had the right to ask. But now I have to."

"Ask."

"When we were arguing on the ship from Eastwatch back to Dragonstone, you said something… You said you couldn't give Jon an heir. I didn't question it at that time. But… how do you know?"

"Ever since Rhaego died, I can't have any more children," she said calmly.

"How do you know? What did the sorceress say to you when you were alone with her?"

"She told me that before I had saved her, she had already been raped several times. And due to what she had done neither Drogo nor my son would cause any more suffering. She seemed quite pleased with herself. And ever since then… I don't know if she planned it that way or if it was just an unintended consequence of what happened, but… before Rhaego I bled regularly. Since Rhaego, I hardly ever bleed at all."

"I'm sorry. I'm very sorry."

Daenerys shrugged her shoulders. "I've gotten used to the thought. And I have my dragons."

* * *

It was deep into the night. The ship was still swaying with the waves, but the worst of the storm had passed. Unconsciously, Daenerys was drawing patterns on Jorah's chest.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Jorah asked.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." She sighed and wrapped her arms tighter around him.

"Are you ok?"

"Yes."

He placed a kiss on her hair. "Then go back to sleep."

"I don't want to," Daenerys whispered. She should have been tired. They hadn't gotten much sleep lately. They were making up for lost time, for all the time they had been apart.

Jorah had noticed that she had been in a strange mood the last few days, ever since they had left Dragonstone. Sometimes she was rather quiet and withdrawn. Other times she was quite affectionate. She touched him more than usual, whenever an opportunity presented itself. Jorah clearly noticed the difference. He wondered if she was still worried about him because of his injuries. But they were healing nicely. Gently, he caressed her back. "Talk to me."

"I am just being selfish."

"Selfish? That you have to explain to me."

Daenerys was reluctant to speak it out loud. "I want to enjoy every moment with you. I wish… As soon as the ship lands in White Harbor…" Their short reprieve would be over. "Sometimes…," her voice became very small, "I wish the ship would never get there."

Jorah was surprised to hear her voice such thoughts. But he could sympathize. Ever since meeting her, he had been eager for the day she would sit on the Iron Throne. He had never believed more in anything else. But now? He wanted her to be happy. Would the Iron Throne make her happy? Would she be safe? Could he keep her safe there? Doubts had started to creep into his mind.

"All I ever wanted was the Iron Throne. As it turns out it was never mine to begin with. And still, I have more to lose than ever before." Jorah was the one thing in her life that was clear to her. There would be no compromising. Before, everything had revolved around the Iron Throne for her. But with Jon and Jorah in the picture and with the Night King approaching to kill them all, the Iron Throne – despite being closer than ever before – seemed endlessly far away.

Jorah looked at her, not sure he understood the full meaning of her words.

"Before, it was easier," Daenerys went on. "I know what I have to do. And I will do it. I feel like I can do anything with you by my side. But sometimes, in the middle of the night, in your arms, I don't want to. And I imagine what it would be like if we weren't who we are, if it was just you and me. Before, I never had such thoughts."

"Do you want to go back to how it was before?" Jorah didn't want to, but he knew exactly what she meant. And he would do whatever she asked, whatever made it easier for her.

She smiled at him. In his voice she could hear that he would do so, if she asked. "No, this can't be undone. Not sharing a bed with you wouldn't change anything about how I feel about you. It might be more difficult, but there is no turning back now. And if you have something to lose, you fight harder."

Jorah enclosed her hand with his. "Yes." That was a predicament he only knew too well.

"Besides, not sharing this with you," she squeezed his hand, "fighting the temptation would be even more of a distraction. I want you way too much to give it up. There's no point in making us both miserable, is there?"

"Whatever my Queen commands."

She sighed and shook her head, burying her face against his neck. "Forget what I said."

"Why?"

"Those words are not worthy of a queen. Those are the silly words of a frightened little girl."

"If you weren't the least bit afraid of what is to come, I would be worried."

"I am not afraid of the White Walkers."

Jorah looked at her surprised.

"Being afraid doesn't change a thing. Being afraid doesn't win wars. They _can_ be killed. I won't underestimate them, not after what I have seen north of the Wall, not after what happened to Viserion. But I won't fear them."

"Then what are you afraid of?"

Daenerys pushed herself up on her elbow, looking at him. But she couldn't bring herself to say it. And suddenly something else she had meant to say to him didn't seem so scary anymore. "I love you." She had never said this to anyone before. There had been endearments with Drogo. But that had been a different kind of love. She had been so young. She'd had no choice. They had been thrown together and eventually they had made a great team. But she had never known someone as well as Jorah, trusted someone as much as him. He sometimes knew her better than she knew herself. That thought should have scared her, but it didn't. They were far beyond that. They had been friends and confidantes for so long. After Drogo's death, after Jorah's betrayal and his greyscale she hadn't been sure she would ever allow her heart to feel again. But it seemed that Missandei had been right. She had no choice in the matter. Her heart did what it wanted.

Jorah just stared at her, lost for words. She had alluded to her feelings for him several times. But to hear those words from her lips was still a shock. He had trouble making sense of them.

Daenerys smiled at him. He looked at her as if he wasn't sure he had heard her correctly. "I do love you," she said again. Was this really such a surprise to him? His face looked more upset than happy. "Jorah?" She knew he loved her. She didn't need to hear the words from him. His speechlessness was answer enough for her. Besides, he had said them far more often than she had. She kissed him and lay down on his shoulder again, feeling completely at peace.

"I never really told you, did I?" Jorah said finally.

"You told me plenty of times. I thought we just agreed that you told me more times than I remembered, even though you never meant to tell me in the first place," Daenerys said with a smirk.

But Jorah stayed serious. "Not really. Not _properly_. And always with too many people around."

"Jorah, I know. I've always known, even if I didn't want to admit it. I think I've known before you even said it." She added in a whisper, "Since Qarth."

He remembered. He had made her uncomfortable then. She had pulled back from him after that. Jorah gently tilted her head so he could look at her face. "I love you, Daenerys. I love your courage. I love your determination. I love your resilience and your strength. I love your compassion. I love your humor. And I love nothing more than to see you smile."

As the Queen she was used to flattery. She knew Jorah was not flattering her. He was simply speaking the truth. It shouldn't have surprised her that Jorah saw her in this way. Now it was Daenerys' turn to be speechless.

With his thumb, Jorah tenderly brushed over her cheek. She hadn't realized it, but tears had formed in her eyes. She blinked. "Damn you, Jorah the Andal, for making your Queen cry."

He kissed her where he had brushed away the tears. "This is one thing I will not ask forgiveness for."

* * *

The next day was dry and once in a while a ray of sunlight broke through the clouds. It was still early. Breakfast hadn't been served yet.

"I don't think I have ever seen you smile, Mormont."

Jorah looked at him slightly annoyed but couldn't really be angry with Tyrion.

"No, actually, I am sure I have never seen you smile. Are you sick?"

Jorah just shook his head in annoyance and returned to look out over the sea.

"You are up early." When Jorah didn't say anything, Tyrion went on, "You and the Queen missed dinner last night."

"Is there a point to this conversation?"

"It's not a conversation, if you are not saying anything."

Jorah took a deep breath, trying to keep his patience. "I know you disapprove."

"No, not really."

"You think me unworthy, a disgraced knight."

"I did. And you are."

"What changed?" Jorah asked confused.

"If you are not worthy, who is? I am a dwarf, a drunkard. I killed my own father and the woman I loved. I would have killed my own nephew, if I'd had the courage. I am part of the family that had most of the Starks killed, the family that had Elia Martell and her children killed. I am the brother of the man who killed Daenerys' father. And now I am her Hand. You have proven your loyalty over and over again. And I don't just mean because you saved her life again just a few days ago. There is no one she is safer with."

"So as long as this is about survival, I am allowed to stay by her side. But once this is over… then what?" It was more a rhetorical question. Jorah didn't care. He wasn't sure if any of them would survive the next few weeks anyway. But he was curious what Tyrion thought.

Tyrion shrugged his shoulders. With Daenerys refusing to discuss her succession, Jon being her nephew and all of them on deaths door due to the Night Walkers, Jorah and the Queen's relationship was currently one of their smallest problems. "That's an issue for later," Tyrion said. "She has made it so far without a husband at her side. And she will always need protection. I doubt most people still care why you were exiled, especially in times like these."

"Varys cares. Ser Barristan cared." Jorah himself had cared. And still did. Sometimes he worried about it but he was careful not to let Daenerys notice. He had respected Ser Barristan greatly. And Varys was indeed a wise and resourceful man, not that Jorah would ever admit that to the Spider's face. Ser Barristan and Varys had seen several kings come and go. Jorah would be stupid if he discarded their concerns completely.

"I think you are good for her, not just because of her safety. She has changed since you came back."

Jorah looked at him surprised.

"She seems more composed. It's like there's a quiet strength she draws from your presence, which isn't that surprising considering how long you've been advising her." Tyrion hesitated slightly before he went on. "Varys and I were starting to get worried about her. She was becoming impatient and easily frustrated."

"Daenerys has never been the most patient person. And she doesn't like losing. Who does? Besides, she is a Targaryen. If she didn't have that Targaryen ambition and resilience, she wouldn't have survived this long."

"Varys thinks she is getting more ruthless. I think maybe she was hurting. Power is isolating."

Jorah remembered how Daenerys had been carried by the freed slaves of Yunkai. That had been everything else but isolating. But those days were gone. Changing the world meant making enemies. And as the Mad King's daughter she already had many enemies before even setting foot on Westeros.

"I've seen what happened to Cersei. She became more and more ruthless the more power she had."

"I don't think I like you comparing Daenerys to your sister," Jorah cautioned him.

"Don't get me wrong, Cersei always had a power-hungry, merciless streak. And her position of power has only nurtured those character traits. She lashes out, the consequences be damned."

"What are you trying to say?" Jorah asked.

"Daenerys had Lord Tarly and his son burned _alive_."

"There isn't much point in burning someone _after_ killing him, is there?" Jorah said pointedly. "There are certainly less painful ways to leave this world, but there are also much worse ways to go. Burning by dragon fire is rather quick. I once saw a woman burned at the stake. She deserved to die. But it took way too long for my taste."

"Still, I wonder if you would have been able to change her mind."

"I wasn't there. I can't say if it was just or not. My counsel might have differed from yours."

Tyrion looked at him curiously.

"You cannot expect her to rule the Seven Kingdoms _and_ spare everyone."

"I never said that. I know punishment is necessary."

"Just not _that_ punishment and not for Lord Tarly and his son?"

"I recommended sending them to the Wall," Tyrion said.

"She gave them a choice, did she not?"

"She did, but-"

"Before she killed Lord Tarly and his son, how many men died on the battlefield?"

"Many."

"Also by dragon fire?"

"Yes. But Lord Tarly was the head of an honorable house."

"Does that mean his life is worth more than that of his foot soldiers?"

Maybe Jorah had a point. Compared to other cruelties Tyrion had witnessed, burning two men in a matter of seconds was by far not the worst he had seen. Was it because he had known Lord Tarly personally that he was so upset?

"I know what you are thinking. But she is _not_ like her father," Jorah said. "But she _is_ a Targaryen. Don't expect her to get rid of the fire. It is part of who she is. And without her dragons, neither of us would be here right now."

"As Varys pointed out-"

"I've heard enough of what Varys says. I don't care what Varys says."

Tyrion frowned at him. "I understand that you don't trust Varys, but he has Daenerys' best interests at heart. He really believes in her."

"Varys only has his own best interests at heart. It's difficult to keep track of whom he has been loyal to."

"He's always been loyal to the Targaryen cause. He just tried to survive in this world, which isn't exactly easy."

"That might be. But if he ever puts his life before hers again…" Jorah said threateningly.

"He never wanted her dead."

"But he took a bloody big chance," Jorah spat. "And he told me all about how he was sure I would save her life when he sent his assassins after her. But he couldn't have known. He couldn't have been sure. Or did he make Ser Barristan quit the Kingsguard so he could show up right at that very moment when another assassin almost succeeded, disguised as a child? I didn't see that one coming." He'd had nightmares about that child and the manticore for weeks afterwards.

"I didn't think you and Varys were talking to each other," Tyrion said with a raised eyebrow.

"We aren't." Jorah turned towards the sea. He had been in such a good mood this morning. But talking to Tyrion had made him angry. If even her closest advisors kept comparing Daenerys to her father, how would the common people ever get past her father's crimes?

"So you are not worried about her?"

"Not because of that." Jorah sighed and turned towards Tyrion again. "She _did_ take it to heart, burning Lord Tarly and his son."

"Did she tell you?"

"I know it affected her. It didn't leave her cold. She has a good heart. But a good heart is perceived as a weakness in this world. She can't show any weakness. Do you really think that someone who made it her mission to free all slaves of Slaver's Bay has no heart or suddenly forgets she has one? She has just gotten better at hiding it."

* * *

Daenerys was sitting at a small table with a small mirror mounted above it on the wall, undoing her braid. She was already dressed for bed in a long pale green nightgown and a robe. Daenerys had been wearing her hair in a simple and loose braid. It saved time in the mornings and evenings. Besides, Missandei wasn't there to help her. She would have left it completely open because she knew Jorah liked it that way, but that wasn't very practical on a ship. When Jorah entered she was combing her hair. He took off his cloak and bent down to place a kiss on her exposed neck.

Daenerys stood up and pointed to the chair. "Sit." She took a bowl from the table. "Sam just came by and gave this to me. I told him I would change your bandages tonight."

"The wounds are fine."

"Humor your queen."

"It's not-"

She reached for his arm and squeezed very gently, making him wince. "You said it numbs the pain."

"Yes, but it's not that bad anymore."

"Sam made this for you."

Jorah sat down on the chair. Daenerys removed the bandages and started applying the herbs. Then she wrapped fresh bandages around his arm and hand. "Now was that so bad?" she asked when she had finished.

"It feels much better. Thank you."

She sighed and rolled her eyes at him, but more in jest than in earnest. "Why are you always so stubborn?"

"The wounds are healing fine."

"You think I am overreacting?"

Now it was his turn to sigh.

Daeenrys took a step backwards and put her hands to her hips. "You know what happened to Drogo. You know I don't want to go through that again."

Before she could move further away from him, Jorah took her hand, trying to calm her down. She allowed his touch but stayed where she was. "You saw the wounds yourself just now," he said. "They have started to close. They won't get infected anymore." He gently tugged on her hand, but she still didn't move. "I know you are just worried about me. But there is no need."

Daenerys knew she was overreacting. The cuts were healing nicely. He didn't show any sign of being much affected by them anymore. Why was she acting like this? He was sitting in front of her alive and well. But for how much longer? And that's when she realized that it wasn't the cuts that bothered her. It was what lay ahead of them. It wouldn't be long until Jorah would lead her army into battle and she would mount Drogon and they would embark on a fight neither of them had ever engaged in before. There was no guarantee any of them would survive. She was getting more and more restless the closer they got to White Harbor. Reality was catching up with her.

Jorah stood up and took the last step towards her. He swept her hair to one side and kissed her neck again, but this time more passionately. He could feel she was tense and she didn't melt into his embrace like she normally did. Raising his lips to her ear, he asked "What's wrong?"

Daenerys felt on edge. She didn't feel in control. She knew what was coming and she couldn't avoid it. It was one fight she hadn't picked. The fight had picked them. And there was no way around it and no way back.

She wouldn't look at him, staring straight ahead at his chest. Putting his arms around her, Jorah gently pulled her against his body. She finally relaxed slightly. He stroked her hair and eventually she put her arms around him. "What's bothering you?" he asked again.

"Don't make me say it out loud," she whispered.

"Then let's go to bed. I will hold you all night, if you want me to."

"No," she mumbled into his chest.

"No?"

"No." Daenerys pushed herself slightly away from him to be able to look into his eyes. "The night is too precious for that."

* * *

The White Walkers were coming for them, clawing at their bodies. Blue eyes everywhere, glowing in the darkness. She heard her dragons screaming. She saw Jorah falling, Jon drowning. Daenerys woke with a start, breathing hard, her body covered in sweat.

Jorah woke a second after her, automatically grabbing for his sword, which he kept right next to the bed nowadays. Except for the usual sounds of the ship, everything was quiet. "What's wrong?"

"Just a nightmare." Daenerys took a deep breath, trying to slow down her heartbeat. "Is your offer from earlier still standing?"

His brain was still half asleep. "What offer?"

"To hold me all night."

Jorah pulled her close against his body. "Always."


	12. Sailing North - Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest period in-between updates, I know. I'm having a couple very busy weeks at work and have also been sick (frustratingly on the weekends). But, finally, here is another >5,000 words chapter. This is really the final part of the "Sailing North" Saga. ;-)
> 
> I will keep referring to Ned Stark as Jon's father, because Ned Stark raised Jon and out of habit Jon just keeps calling him that. And in public, of course, they can't reveal the secret who Jon's real father was.
> 
> Many thanks to the reviewers!!! It's always a big motivation boost.

When Jorah woke it was just starting to get light outside, but still too early to get up yet. Daenerys was lying next to him, rolled into a ball. Without thinking any further about it, he pulled her against his body. She stirred slightly, wrapping her arm around his, seeking his warmth.

"You are always warm," she said, still half-asleep.

"I grew up in this climate."

She turned around in his arms, pressing her cold face against his chest. "But you spent years in Essos."

"It's in my blood." Jorah stroked his hand across her back. "You need to wear your nightgown and night robe in bed."

"I like to feel your skin against mine." Daenerys knew it was even more balm for his soul than for her.

"So do I. But I don't want you to get sick again."

She put her leg between his, entwining their bodies even more.

Jorah thought she had gone back to sleep.

"When was the last time you were with a woman like this?" Daenerys asked softly.

He smiled and stroked over her hair. "Like this? Never."

"You know what I mean."

Jorah sighed. "Years."

"Years?"

"After Lynesse left me, I occasionally visited a pleasure house. I missed my wife. I hurt. I thought I would find comfort there. But I didn't. I found I craved the connection with a woman. But it wasn't real, no matter how hard they try to make you believe."

"Years?" Daenerys couldn't get over it. Drogo hadn't been able to go without for a few days, if at all. But then she had been his wife.

"I can take care of my own needs." And when Jorah had started to fall in love with her, he had known that no other woman would be able to fill that space.

"Did you fantasize about anyone when you…?"

"Don't ask me that."

Now she was intrigued. "Certainly your wife at first."

"Yes."

"And later?"

"Daenerys," he said warningly.

"What? It's a compliment, isn't it?"

"We should get some more sleep," Jorah said, hoping she would drop it.

"Tell me about your fantasies."

"No."

Daenerys raised her head to look at him. Jorah never outright refused her. "I have fantasized about you."

That caught him off guard. "What?"

She gave him a seductive smile. "Shall I tell you of my fantasies?"

Jorah was speechless. Fantasies? As in more than one? He wasn't sure if he really wanted to continue this topic. But he was curious as to when she had fantasized about him.

"I will tell you about mine, if you tell me about yours."

"Some things are meant to stay private."

Daenerys wondered what he was afraid of. He had lived among the Dothraki even longer than her. They had both seen things other people would only get to see if they walked into a pleasure house. Jorah had never seemed squeamish about it. "You can keep your secrets," she said tenderly. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. You chose what you want to tell me."

"Daenerys…"

"You are not even a little bit curious?" Very lightly, she placed a kiss on his lips. "You really don't want to know?" Daenerys returned to his lips, but this time with more pressure. She licked at his lips, but the moment he opened for her she pulled away.

Jorah had to inhale deeply as he had momentarily forgotten to breathe. "When did you…"

"Fantasize about you?"

"Yes."

Daenerys smiled mischievously, pressing her body closer against his. "I'll tell you. But only if you promise that you will tell me one of your fantasies in return."

Jorah sighed inwardly. When it came to seduction, she usually won anyway. He wasn't sure how he had ever been able to resist her.

She pushed him onto his back, positioning herself on top of him. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "And? Do you agree to my terms?"

"Daenerys…" He was still reluctant.

"I'll even start. You can tell me some other time."

Jorah knew he was at her mercy. He was just not yet ready to admit it. "You are not fighting fair."

Putting her head down on his chest, she said sweetly, "You can say no. It's completely your decision." But she knew she had him.

Jorah almost laughed. He could tell she was having fun torturing him like this. And he enjoyed seeing her so happy, especially after the last few nights when she had been so glum. He knew he was probably going to regret it, but at the moment he didn't care. "Alright, I agree."

Daenerys raised her head, her eyes playful. "Are you sure? You can't back out on me afterwards."

He nodded.

Now that she had to tell him, Daenerys suddenly felt a bit shy after all. She made herself comfortable against his chest again. It was easier when she wasn't looking at him. "After we parted ways in Vaes Dothrak, I imagined you would come back to me, fully healed. You would visit my quarters in the middle of the night. I would already be asleep. You'd sit down on my bed and gently take my hand. I'd wake and know immediately who it is."

Jorah was tenderly stroking her back. By the change in her voice he could tell she was slightly nervous. She was almost whispering.

"We wouldn't say a word, just look at each other. I'd slowly sit up and run the tips of my fingers over your arm, where you had shown me the greyscale, knowing you would never let me touch you like this if you weren't healed. Eventually, you'd try to say something. But I wouldn't want to hear it, silencing you with my fingers. I'd bring my face closer to yours, begging you with my eyes to kiss me. But you wouldn't dare. Only when I'd put my hand behind your neck and pull you closer would you give in. You would kiss me, cautiously at first, but then with more passion."

Jorah's hand moved lower on her back.

"I would untie my nightgown and discard it, lying back down on the bed. For a moment you would just watch me quietly in the semi-darkness. My body would feel like it was on fire, yearning for your touch."

Not being able to hold himself back any longer, Jorah tilted her head and kissed her.

Daenerys melted into the kiss like she was starving for it. When she broke free, she was breathing hard. This time, getting bolder, she held his eyes when she went on, "You'd quickly get rid of your clothes and then move over me. I'd tell you how good it feels and how much I missed you."

He rolled them over, so that he was on top, settling between her legs.

Daenerys moaned. She loved feeling his weight on top of her. "You'd kiss me to silence my cries of pleasure." She kissed him passionately. "I'd make you promise that you never give me a reason to send you away again."

Gently caressing her face, Jorah looked into her eyes and asked, "You didn't just make that up, did you?" He had to know.

"No, I didn't." She smiled at him. "In one version Daario would enter my quarters right when I…" She bit her lip and avoided his eyes, "scream your name."

Jorah couldn't suppress a grin. Now that was a fantasy to his liking.

"I had a feeling you would like that part."

"I have to admit that I do. But could we please not talk about Daario right now?"

"I think we should stop talking altogether."

* * *

Tyrion was drinking heavily, his resolution to limit his intake of anything alcoholic for the time being already forgotten.

"Want some?" Tyrion offered when Jon sat down opposite him.

"Not really," Jon said.

Tyrion placed a cup in front of him anyway and filled it as much as the waves allowed. "Will you tell your sisters the truth?" he asked.

"If Bran hasn't told them yet, yes. Neither of them would ever forgive me if they found out from someone else."

"I am glad Sansa made it back to Winterfell. I was really worried about her. My family would have destroyed her. King's Landing was never the right place for her. Your father should have never brought his children with him to King's Landing. That was his biggest mistake. He knew what a snake hole it was. And still is."

"He paid for it with his life."

Tyrion nodded. He raised his cup. "To your father."

Jon followed suit and took a deep swallow from his cup.

Tyrion refilled their cups.

"Sansa has changed," Jon said after a while. "She has changed so much I hardly recognize her."

"She's resilient. She's a true Stark."

"She had Petyr Baelish executed."

Tyrion stopped his cup halfway to his lips. "Littlefinger is dead?"

"I don't know the details yet. Sansa only briefly mentioned it in her last message. She said he was responsible for our father's death."

"It wouldn't surprise me at all if Littlefinger had a hand in it somehow."

"But to have him executed? That doesn't sound like my sister."

"Not the sister you once knew, no. Not the Sansa I once knew either, it seems." Tyrion raised his cup again. "To your sister."

Jon hesitated.

Tyrion drank. "You don't like how she has changed?"

"I don't know. She is stronger. But also… different..."

"In this cruel world, you either adapt, or you die. Your sister adapted."

"That she did."

"Would you rather she hadn't? She'd be either mad or dead."

"She was so gentle, so..."

"I know. But you can't stay sweet and innocent and survive in this world. That's a fact. You might not like it, but believe me, you would like the alternative even less."

"I guess… I think I came pretty close to finding out."

Tyrion eyed him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

"She said that if we lost the Battle of the Bastards, she would not go back to Ramsay Bolton alive."

Suddenly Tyrion had a queasy feeling in his stomach and it was not due to the waves. He doubted that all the wine on the ship would be able to get rid of it. Tyrion had been glad when Sansa had escaped King's Landing. But it seemed the Boltons might have equaled – if not surpassed – the cruelty of his own family. "You beat Ramsey," Tyrion said, trying to make Jon – and himself – feel better.

"I didn't. Sansa did. She called the Knights of the Vale. I couldn't protect her. I couldn't protect any of them."

"You were a boy. You were at the Wall. They kill deserters. You would have been no use to any of them dead."

Jon refilled their cups.

"I am not your Hand, but may I offer some advice?" Tyrion asked.

"Of course."

"Be smart. Be smarter than your enemies."

"You mean by scheming and betraying."

"If it's necessary, yes. Honor and honesty will only get you so far. I admired your father, I truly did. He was a good man, a great man, but his honor and honesty got him killed in the end. You have to pick your fights carefully."

"We are at war with Cersei. I can't pick my fights."

"Because you already did."

"That was-"

Tyrion raised a finger. "Ah, honor and honesty," he reminded him. "They will only get you so far. You backed yourself into a corner."

"Lying and scheming, that's your world, not mine."

"We live in the same world. Refusing to play by the rules everybody else does puts you at a disadvantage."

"Maybe." Jon sighed. "Daenerys is better at scheming than me."

"She is. But she had more time practicing than you," Tyrion said with kindness in his voice.

"Even if I had promised Cersei I would stay neutral, there would have been no guarantee that she wouldn't have attacked us anyway."

Tyrion nodded. "True, absolutely true."

"But?"

"You forced Cersei's hand. Instead of letting her wonder what you would do, if you would be true to your word, you played all your cards at once. She knew what she was doing when she mentioned Ned Stark. She was baiting you."

Jon still believed he had done the right thing. And he couldn't dishonor the memory of his father. Ned Stark was still highly respected beyond his death. If Jon would not be true to his word, what would people say about the great Lord Stark then? That he had raised a liar.

* * *

After dinner, Jorah, Jon and Sam were sitting together and talking.

Jon was still thinking about what Tyrion had said to him earlier, about his father and honesty. "Why didn't Ned Stark tell me he wasn't my father?" Jon asked no one in particular.

"He loved you like a father," Jorah said. "He wanted to protect you."

"Catelyn hated me. I wish he had at least told her. They loved their children so much. They loved each other. But I always reminded her that her husband had been unfaithful, when he never was."

"It takes a lot of strength to take that upon yourself."

"It's ironic. He always told the truth. It was so important to him."

"Ah, that's where you get that from," Jorah said with a grin, trying to cheer him up.

"But he lied to his wife and he lied to me."

"To protect you," Sam said. "Better a bastard than a legitimate but dead nephew."

Jorah nodded. "By claiming you were a bastard he made you almost invisible. Nobody looks twice at a bastard. Anything else might have drawn too much attention. Robert would have stopped at nothing to have you killed if he had known about you. And neither will Cersei, if she finds out that you have a claim on her throne."

"The fight for the Iron Throne isn't my war," Jon said.

"You bent the knee to Daenerys. You are the King in the North. That in itself is rebellion and reason enough for Cersei to have you killed. Do you think you or your family will be safe as long as Cersei is sitting on the Iron Throne?"

"I know she wants me dead. She wouldn't be the first one."

Jorah studied Jon. "You seem indifferent."

"I'm not afraid of death." Not anymore.

"You should be," Jorah said. "It keeps men alive."

Jon nodded thoughtfully. His father's words came back to him. "Ned Stark used to say that the only time a man can be brave is when he is afraid." Jon had been neither afraid nor brave when he had been stabbed by his brothers. He had simply been too shocked. He hadn't seen it coming. And now, knowing what was coming for them? He just wanted to defeat the Night Walkers. It was his mission. He was driven. But he was not afraid. Had his father been brave when he had put his head on the executioner's block, knowing what would happen to him? His father had delivered that blow himself several times and knew exactly what would happen to him. Jon was convinced he had been afraid, but just as brave.

"Jon?" Sam put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Jon looked at them. "Did you say something?"

"I asked if you want some more wine," Sam repeated.

"I better not," Jon said. "I think I've had enough for tonight. I'm tired anyway." He got up and left them.

Sam looked after Jon. He was sure Jon wasn't really tired. Tired from what? There was nothing to do on this damn ship but sit around. On his way to Dragonstone Sam had cursed himself for voluntarily setting foot on a ship again. But it had been the fastest way to Dragonstone. Luckily, on the way back to White Harbor his stomach was coping much better than on previous trips. It seemed he was getting used to ship travel after all.

"Do you miss the Citadel?" Jorah asked Sam after a while.

"No, not really. Actually, not at all. It's hard to acquire knowledge if you are scrubbing chamber pots all day."

"I've been meaning to ask you, did they expel you from the Citadel because of me?"

"No. I left on my own account to help Jon."

Jorah sighed in relief. He was glad to be alive, but he didn't want Sam to be punished for it. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Of course."

"You said my father saved your life several times."

"He did."

"Would you tell me about him? The last time I saw my father was many, many years ago."

Sam saw a lot of pain in Jorah's eyes. "He was a good man. But I guess you know that already. He never abandoned his people. Never. Not even me. Even though I was a coward and slowed them down."

"You are _not_ a coward."

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe not as much anymore. But I was," he said with conviction.

"I have met many cowards over the years. You are not one of them."

If Sam hadn't been looking at Jorah, he wouldn't have been sure who had been talking to him, Jorah Mormont or his father Jeor.

"You were with him when my father died, right?" Jorah asked.

"Yes."

"What happened? I know his own men killed him but… how exactly did he die?"

Sam was reluctant to answer. He took a deep breath and then recounted what had happened. "We were forced to stay with this guy, Craster, and his wives north of the wall. We had wounded with us. We needed to rest. Craster gave us shelter but hardly anything else. The Lord Commander refused to leave the wounded behind, knowing Craster would have killed them. It started as a brawl, Craster was killed. Nobody liked Craster, but your father was outraged at the behavior of his men. They threatened the women and your father tried to stop them. And then… it happened so quickly… he was stabbed from behind." Sam had to pause for a moment before he went on. "I left him for dead. I knew I wouldn't be able to help him. There were too many of them. And it was already too late. The only one I could help was Gilly and her son."

"Gilly?"

"One of Craster's wives. I couldn't leave them there."

"That doesn't sound like cowardice to me either," Jorah said.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't really think about it back then. But I do know it was the right decision." He couldn't wait to get back to Gilly and Little Sam. Maybe he should have taken them south with him and found them a safe place. But Gilly would have probably refused to go along with it anyway.

"If you'll excuse me," Jorah said and rose. He desperately needed some fresh air. His father had been a warrior and dying was part of that. But to find out that he had been stabbed from behind was even worse than finding out about his death. Being stabbed from behind was the worst way to go for a warrior.

"Of course." Sam looked around to see if Tyrion was close by. He loved Jon like a true brother and admired Ser Jorah. But spending a whole evening with the two of them together was really depressing. Tyrion was much more fun.

* * *

Daenerys was already asleep when Jorah came back to their cabin. He sat down on the bed and just looked at her. The candle was still burning. A book was lying next to her. Jorah carefully put the book away. He was tempted to touch her, but didn't want to wake her. Daenerys must have felt his presence anyway as she opened her eyes. She gave him a sleepy smile. Jorah couldn't resist any longer and gently stroked her jawline with the back of his fingers.

"You are cold as ice," she exclaimed. "Were you outside?"

He looked away. "I needed some fresh air."

"You know how that went for me just a while ago. Come to bed and I'll warm you up."

Jorah stood up and undressed.

Daenerys watched him. He seemed to be somewhere else with his mind. When he came to bed she wrapped her arms around him. His hands were ice cold. She could even feel it through her nightgown. So was his face. She kissed him and put her hand under his shirt, caressing his skin. Jorah didn't say a word, which wasn't that unusual, but something was off. She rested her head on his chest so that she could look at his face. "Is everything alright?"

Jorah nodded. He didn't want to burden her with his sorrow. She had seemed so content when she had opened her eyes. That warmed his heart more than anything else. He managed to give her a small smile.

Daenerys put her hands to his face, warming his cheeks with them and then kissed him again.

Suddenly he rolled them over and took charge of their kiss. Jorah kissed her for a very long time before he quickly took off the rest of his clothes. Reclaiming her lips he undid the fastenings of her nightgown. He needed to feel her skin against his. He craved her warmth. He needed to touch her, to feel she was alive.

Jorah was terribly gentle and slow. He wouldn't be hurried. There was pain and sorrow in his eyes, but also longing. Something wasn't quite right. Daenerys looked at him concerned, questioningly.

"Just let me love you."

Daenerys didn't know what could have possibly affected him in this way. She only knew he needed her. And she was more than willing to give him whatever it was that he needed.

He seemed lost in her body, kissing her, caressing her. It was almost unbearable how slow he was. Jorah had been slow and tender with her before, but this was different. He didn't say a single word. He didn't just focus on the places where she was particularly sensitive, and he knew them all by now. His fingers were wandering over her whole body, lightly caressing her shoulders, her ribs, her hips, her stomach as if he were mapping her body. When she tried to speed things up and touch him in return he gently restrained her hands. She relaxed and simply let him do as he pleased. Their joining was just as unhurried and tender. By the time they finally came together, she was so aroused and close that she thought she would come apart right there and then.

* * *

Afterwards, when Jorah tried to roll off her, Daenerys wrapped her arms around him, keeping him close. He buried his face in the crook of her neck. She gently stroked his back. Something wasn't right.

Not wanting to crush her, Jorah rolled them over, taking her with him, positioning her on top of him, not letting go of her.

Daenerys continued to caress his skin. "What's wrong?" she asked in a whisper, not wanting to spoil the quiet and peaceful atmosphere they had created.

It took a moment until he finally spoke. Jorah truly didn't want to talk about it. He didn't need to. He just needed her in his arms. But the concerned look on her face told him that he had to give her some kind of explanation. "I asked Sam about my father. He was with him when he died."

Her face turned sorrowful. Daenerys waited for him to go on. When he didn't, she said, "I am so very sorry you didn't get to see him again before his death."

So was he. But it had been his own fault. And Jorah wasn't sure he would have had the strength to ever face his father again. He felt like no matter what he did he could never erase the shame he had brought on his house. Everyone had expected better of him. And he had disappointed them all.

"I'll hold you all night, if you want me to," Daenerys offered, reciting his own words back at him.

He simply kissed her. For the life of him, Jorah couldn't figure out what he had done to deserve her.

* * *

_The next morning_

Jorah could tell she was waking up. She tightened her hold on him. It almost amused him how possessive she was in her sleep.

Daenerys wasn't surprise to see him awake already. "Did you sleep at all?"

"A little bit."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Jorah…"

"I'll be alright. Just not necessarily today."

* * *

Breakfast was a rather tense affair. Neither Jorah nor Jon said a word. Luckily, Tyrion managed with ease to talk for all of them. The first people had gotten up from breakfast, and only Sam was still eating. Daenerys changed seats and sat down next to him.

"Your Grace."

"Please don't stop on my account, Sam. I am glad at least one person is enjoying the cook's food this morning."

"It's good. Much better than at the Wall. Or at the Citadel."

"I know why Ser Jorah is so glum, but what about Jon?"

"The same thing," Sam said. "Fathers. They both loved their fathers very much."

"They did."

"I think it's the first time I am glad mine didn't love me. He made me miserable, but in a very different way."

Daenerys put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "No matter how cruel your father was, he can't have been worse than mine."

Sam wasn't sure how he should reply to that. "Maybe I shouldn't have told Ser Jorah how his father died," he said.

"It pained him greatly. But I don't think he ever allowed himself to mourn his father. It had to happen at some point." And Daenerys was glad that Jorah didn't have to come to terms with the circumstances of his father's death alone.

* * *

Daenerys went in search of Jorah but instead she found Tyrion.

"That was a fun breakfast," Tyrion remarked. "I am not sure how you can stand having those two around you at the same time. It's greatly depressing."

"Give them a break."

"Why should I?"

"They both have a hard time accepting their fathers' deaths."

"Ah, fathers. Now imagine how pitiful breakfast would have been if the two of us had commiserated about our fathers."

"Our fathers were bad people, theirs' weren't," Daenerys said. "And all this time on this ship, with nothing to do but think. I've had my weak moments on this trip too."

"I rather like ship travel," Tyrion said and quickly added, "if it's done in this manner, not in a crate or bound and gagged by Jorah Mormont."

Daenerys gave him a look that tried to be disapproving, but she couldn't quite hide a small smile.

"Not long until we reach White Harbor," Tyrion said.

"No."

"I won't be welcome in Winterfell."

"And still you came along. Are you afraid they will behead you?"

"I hope I can hang on to my head for a while longer."

"So do I."

"Have you considered making Ser Jorah your Hand?" Tyrion asked.

Daenerys looked at him astonished. "No."

"Maybe you should."

"Do you think it would increase your chances of survival?" Daenerys asked jokingly.

"Unlikely. I would still be a Lannister."

"Then why would you want me to reconsider?"

"I am a Lannister."

"And I am a Targaryen. I am not any more welcome in the North than you."

"With Jorah Mormont as your Hand, you might be. House Mormont is well respected in the North."

"You are here to advise me, not them."

"Still, if you make Ser Jorah-"

"He will not replace you as my Hand," Daenerys said with finality.

"Very well."

"You don't want to be my Hand anymore?" Daenerys challenged him.

"I do." Tyrion couldn't imagine a place where he would rather be at the moment. "For the first time in my life I feel useful and respected. Even if not all my advice has been… appreciated."

Daenerys regarded him with a smile. "It's always appreciated. I just might choose not to follow it."

"Of course," Tyrion agreed. "As is your prerogative as queen."

"I don't need advisors that tell me what they think I want to hear."

"A lot of kings and queens want exactly that."

"I'm curious. Why would you recommend Jorah as my Hand, besides the fact that he is from a northern house?"

"Why does that surprise you?"

"Because you recommended I banish him."

"That was a very long time ago."

"You don't approve that I've…" She was searching for an appropriate term.

"… taken him as a lover?" Tyrion finished for her.

Daenerys frowned. She didn't like that word, at least not in this case. Daario had been her lover, a diversion. Jorah was more. But she couldn't think of a better word either.

"I just think you need him more as an advisor and a friend than anything else."

"He still is my advisor and friend."

"Maybe not the best timing to make it… more," Tyrion said carefully.

"And when would that be?" she asked, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. "After we've defeated the Night King? After we've defeated Cersei? When you advise me to marry some lord to secure my hold on the Seven Kingdoms?"

Tyrion looked at her. For just a second he saw something – maybe pain – in her eyes. But it was gone as soon as he had detected it and afterwards he wasn't sure if he had really seen or just imagined it.

"I don't want to have any regrets," Daenerys said in a whisper. "I know I bought Jon's and Jorah's life with Viserion's. And that's all it got me."

"It could have worked. And Cersei knows now."

"Yes, she knows. But it didn't get us anywhere. It was too big a risk."

Tyrion had thought so himself at times. "I'm sorry."

"I am not blaming you," Daenerys clarified. "I made the decision. I sent them north. I let them go."

"You couldn't have known. I think we are all to blame in that particular case." Nobody had really objected, not Jorah, not Jon, not Ser Davos, not Varys. They had all known it was dangerous. But they had all gone along. "Maybe we got reckless, wondering if we could pull it off. In the end it was just luck that not more people died."

"Yes." Daenerys turned to look at him. "Promise me something."

"What, your Grace?"

"The next time _anyone_ voices a crazy idea like that, remind me of this moment."

"I will," Tyrion said. Then he grinned at her. "We really have to get off this ship. It does allow for too much thinking."

* * *

White Harbor was in sight. The crew was bustling about to prepare the ship for docking. Everyone was standing on deck, watching the harbor come closer and closer.

Daenerys' hair was back in its intricate braids, at least as best as she could manage without Missandei. Jorah was standing close to her left, Tyrion and Jon were standing to her right. Daenerys took Jorah's hand. Nobody noticed in all the commotion.

"Let's go and save the world," Tyrion said with mock enthusiasm.

"Not quite what I came to Westeros for originally," Daenerys said.

Drogon and Rhaegal were flying over White Harbor. People below looked up scared, some scurried away, some were frozen to the ground.

"I hope they don't torch anyone," Varys said. "That would be a bad start."

"Dragons were supposed to be extinct. White Walkers were supposed to be myth," Jon said. "But we were proven wrong. And the younger people don't even know what winter is really like. But winter has arrived at last."


	13. Arrival in Winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written before Season 8 started airing. I haven't seen any of it yet. I've only read the odd summary and spoiler here and there.
> 
> Whereas I tried to make the first chapters of this story fit in with Season 7 as best as I could, this is no longer the ambition. Future chapters were outlined and in large parts written before Season 8 started airing. I will stick with my storyline and not adapt it to make it fit in with Season 8. That also means there are no Season 8 spoilers in the upcoming chapters. If it's similar, it's because earlier seasons already hinted at it.
> 
> I almost split this chapter into two because it became so long, but for several reasons I decided not to. So here it is, a 6,000 word treat. The first part focuses on the Stark reunion. The second part is pure Daenerys and Jorah.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the encouraging reviews and the get-well wishes (all back to normal now)!

When they arrived at Winterfell, Sansa and Arya were waiting outside in the courtyard for them despite the cold. Jon had barely dismounted before Arya flung herself at him. His arms went around her, tightly. They stood like that for a long time. Everybody else had already dismounted when they finally let go of each other.

"Where are the Dothraki?" Arya asked excitedly, looking around.

"They will get here in a few days," Jon said. "The winds were in our favor."

Jon went up to Sansa and embraced her as well.

"It's good to have you back at Winterfell," Sansa said. "You were gone too long."

"I am sorry about that. It couldn't be helped."

Jon made the necessary introductions. Sansa's face remained neutral. She was polite and courteous, but not more than required. Only when Tyrion approached did she manage a small smile.

Tyrion had forgotten how beautiful Sansa was. The last time he had seen her she'd had that youthful, unearthly beauty about her, but now she was a proud and graceful woman. But her eyes were hard, impenetrable. It made him sad. But wasn't he the one who had told Jon that becoming tough was the only way to survive?

"I am glad they didn't kill you for murdering Joffrey," Sansa said.

"I didn't kill my nephew".

"Pity."

"Yes," Tyrion replied. "He deserved it." If only to stop him from tormenting Sansa.

"Shall we go inside," Sansa suggested, taking the lead and showing them the way.

They all followed Sansa. Daenerys was glad to get out of the cold after a day of riding through wind and snow.

"We have prepared quarters for you, your Grace," Sansa said.

Jon lightly touched Daenerys' arm. "Why don't you get some rest?" he suggested. "I need to talk to my sisters."

Daenerys nodded and followed a maid to her quarters.

"Where is Bran?" Jon asked.

"In his room," Sansa said.

"Then let's go and talk there."

* * *

"Are you going to marry her?" Sansa asked more than displeased as soon as the door had closed behind them.

"No."

"Really? You two seem very close."

Jon sighed and sat down. He looked at Bran, who already knew everything.

"What is going on here?" Sansa demanded.

"I found out who my mother was. And I also found out that Ned Stark was not my father."

"What?" Arya looked at him aghast.

"We are still related though. Ned wasn't my father, but my mother was Lyanna."

"Aunt Lyanna?" Arya asked.

"Rhaegar kidnapped and raped her," Sansa said.

"No, he didn't. He loved her. And she loved him."

Sansa looked at him in disbelief, as if he was crazy.

"It's true," Bran said. "They got married. And Aunt Lyanna died giving birth to Jon."

"Rhaegar was already married to Elia Martell," Sansa pointed out.

"That marriage was annulled," Jon said. "Sam discovered it in the journal of a High Septon at the Citadel."

"So you are… our cousin?" Arya asked disappointedly.

"Yes. But nothing will change between us. I love you like my sisters. I don't want that to change."

"That makes Daenerys your aunt," Sansa said. "And... if you are Rheagar's son…"

"Rhaegar's heir…" Arya whispered.

"Yes. I know. It's a lot to take in. Believe me, I still have trouble believing it."

"What are you going to do now?" Sansa asked.

"Fight the White Walkers."

"No, about the Iron Throne. If you are Rhaegar's heir-"

"It's not important right now."

"Not important? Jon, you are the rightful heir to the Iron Throne!"

"I know that! But nobody can know."

"Why? Did _she_ tell you to keep it quiet?"

"No. It was my decision. Revealing this could create discord among our bannermen. We can't risk that. The only thing that matters right now is defeating the Night King. That is our only goal at the moment."

"But-"

"This is not up for discussion. We can talk about it again after the Night King is defeated. Until then, neither of you will breathe a word of it."

Arya nodded. She didn't care whose son Jon was, just that he was alive and back.

"Sansa?"

Sansa shrugged her shoulders. "Sure. Fine."

Jon sighed relieved. "But you have been quite busy as well." He looked at Sansa. "You wrote in your letter that you had Petyr Baelish executed."

"He was responsible for our father's death. He conspired with Cersei."

"How did you find out? Did he confess?"

"Bran saw it."

Bran just nodded.

"I killed him with his own dagger," Arya said proudly. "He would have deserved a far more cruel death. But dead is dead."

Jon looked at her stunned. He thought Sansa had hardened, but Arya had changed at least as much as Sansa had.

"But he helped us in the battle against Ramsey," Jon said.

"You disapprove of what I have done?" Sansa asked.

"What we have done," Arya corrected her.

"No," Jon said. "I just want to understand."

"Littlefinger was dangerous! You don't know how dangerous he was. He was your friend one day and the next he could turn into your worst enemy. He was unpredictable."

"You might have been able to handle him," Arya said. "He loved you."

Sansa laughed without humor. "He married aunt Lysa and then he threw her down the Moon Door with his own hands." She walked towards the door. "You two probably have a lot to talk about. I'll see if our guests have everything they need."

* * *

Jon and Arya had moved to Arya's room to talk.

"And then we were captured by the Brotherhood Without Banners."

"By Lord Beric?" Jon asked astonished.

"You know him?"

"Yes. I met him and Thorus of Myr at the Wall."

"The Red Priest."

"Yes. But he's dead. He didn't make it."

"Then Lord Beric better stay alive."

Jon looked at her curiously.

"The priest brought Lord Beric back from the dead, six times."

"I know. But how do you?"

"I saw him do it once," Arya said. "After the Hound killed Beric. In a matter of seconds he was alive again. If the priest is dead, Beric only has one more death ahead of him."

"People are not meant to rise from the dead."

"Tell that to your White Walkers. Sansa says you are obsessed with them."

"You better take this seriously," Jon said, almost losing his temper. "They are real."

"Calm down. I believe you." Arya knew he was telling the truth. But she couldn't get rid of the feeling that he was hiding something from her. "What are you not telling me?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"We've never had secrets from each other."

He avoided her eyes.

"It's just me, Jon."

Was she really? Jon hardly recognized her. She was too quiet, her every move and word seemed calculated. What had happened to her? Was nobody the same anymore? He almost had to laugh at that thought. He himself had changed just as much. If he couldn't trust his family, whom could he trust? Jon sighed. "I've met a red priestess."

"And?"

"She also brought somebody back from the dead."

"Whom?"

"Me."

Arya looked at him for a long time.

"Finally got you speechless," Jon said, trying to lighten the mood.

But Arya didn't feel like joking. "Lord Beric said something. He said that each time he got brought back, pieces of him got chipped away."

"I only got brought back once."

"People are different. Lord Beric is… It's probably quite hard to chip something away from him."

"Are you saying I am not as strong as him?" Jon teased her.

But Arya stayed serious. "All I am saying is try not to get killed again. I like you the way you are."

"There are no more red priests or priestesses around these parts anyway."

"Then don't get killed at all," Arya said in a commanding tone.

"Don't worry about me." Changing the topic, Jon said, "Now tell me more about this Gendry."

"Why are you so interested in Gendry?" Arya asked somewhat confused.

"You'll find out anyway," Jon said and smiled at her. "I've met him. He is coming here. He's traveling with the Dothraki."

"Gendry is alive?"

Jon nodded. "Yes."

"He's coming to Winterfell?"

"Yes."

Arya looked at Jon with piercing eyes. "There's more."

"Yes, but he should tell you himself when he gets here."

* * *

Sansa knocked on Daenerys' door.

"Come in."

"Is this room to your liking, your Grace?" Sansa asked. "Will you be comfortable here?"

"Yes, thank you."

Sansa closed the door. "Are you planning to marry Jon?"

Daenerys looked at her confused. "I thought… didn't Jon tell you…?" she asked carefully.

"That you are his aunt? Yes. But correct me if I am wrong, wasn't your father married to his sister? Isn't that a Targaryen tradition?"

Daenerys looked at Sansa expressionless. This Stark was definitely hostile towards her. And not simply because she was a Targaryen. "I don't love him."

Sansa laughed bitterly. "Love? As if that ever had anything to do with it. You need him."

"Just as he needs me and my armies to defeat the White Walkers."

"So you admit it then."

Daenerys looked at her for a moment pondering how to proceed. This woman was not to be trifled with. She would do anything to protect the people she loved and she made no secret of it. Fine, if Sansa wanted bluntness, Daenerys could be blunt as well. "Are you afraid I will take Jon away from you? That is not my intention. You will always be his sister."

"Cousin," Sansa corrected her.

"I didn't have any family growing up, except for my brother. And he only used me to regain his power. He would have married me himself, if he didn't need me to bargain with the Dothraki. I was just a pawn in his game, nothing more. When I was pregnant, he threatened to cut my son out of my womb. What kind of brother does that? He paid dearly for that one though. I always wished I had known my brother Rhaegar. Jon is the first real family I ever had. But I would never take him away from his family. Winterfell is his home. I have no intention of marrying Jon."

"If you want the Iron Throne, marrying the King in the North would secure you the whole North."

"He already bent the knee."

"So I heard." Sansa's face and voice left no doubt that she didn't agree with Jon's actions. "But he is the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms. I know he doesn't want anybody to know, at least not yet. But what is your plan once he does make it public? Do you expect him to step down?"

"We haven't talked about that yet. We have more pressing matters to take care of."

"Marrying him might be the only way for you to hold on to the Iron Throne," Sansa baited her.

"He is my brother's son," Daenerys said calmly, even though she felt anything else but calm. "I will not allow that Targaryen tradition to continue. It might have kept the bloodline pure, but it also weakened it. My father was mad. And my brother showed the same signs." Daenerys could see that Sansa still wasn't completely convinced. Daenerys sighed, she would have to go one step further. "Besides, there is someone else."

Sansa looked at her, raising her eyebrows, waiting to hear more.

"Ser Jorah."

"Ser Jorah Mormont?" Sansa asked confused. "But… Ser Jorah… he's…"

"From a small house? A disgraced lord? Older than me?" Daenerys had to suppress a smile. It was the first time Sansa had somewhat lost her composure. "He is also my best friend. He has advised and protected me for years. And I am done with arranged and political marriages."

Sansa looked at her doubtfully and stayed silent.

"You were forced to marry Tyrion Lannister. That can't have been easy for you."

Sansa regarded Daenerys with open hatred. She wasn't going to talk about this, especially not with a stranger.

Realizing that Sansa wasn't going to open up to her, Daenerys went on, "I was married off once. I got lucky though. After some initial… problems… Khal Drogo turned out to be a good man."

"Who wanted to conquer the world for you?"

"Yes."

"Didn't turn out like he had planned, did it?" Sansa asked mockingly.

"No," Daenerys said sadly. "But it turns out you don't need a man at your side to conquer the world."

Sansa smiled, a true smile. "But what about Ser Jorah then?"

"I don't need him to conquer the world. I _want_ him by my side."

They stared at each other for a moment, neither of them wanting to look away first.

"Dinner should be ready soon," Sansa said. "You probably want to freshen up."

"I already did."

"I meant…" Sansa paused. "I didn't see any maids traveling with you."

"My friend, Missandei, is traveling with the Dothraki."

"I can send you one of my maids to help you with your hair, if you want."

Daenerys had to suppress the impulse to touch her hair. She hadn't looked at herself in the mirror yet. She had freshened up, changed clothes and then warmed herself in front of the fire. But she could well imagine that her braids hadn't been able to withstand the wind and snow. "Thank you for your offer. I can manage by myself."

"Very well. I'll leave you to it then," Sansa said and left.

Daenerys went over to her trunk, digging through her clothes. Somewhere there had to be that dragon hairpin she used for keeping her hair up when taking a bath. That should do. She could leave her hair open, but its color was just another reminder that she was a Targaryen. Better to keep her hair as inconspicuous as possible tonight.

Daenerys had not expected a warm welcome in Winterfell, but that Jon's sister mistrusted her like this was a bit of a surprise. She didn't want Sansa to be an opponent, but she certainly behaved like one. It was a new and strange experience for Daenerys. Except for Cersei, whom she had only met once and hardly exchanged words with at all, she had never before had to deal with a woman as an opponent. She had always dealt with men. Men had insulted her and tried to intimidate her. But it had been done in such a crude and sometimes even absurdly exaggerated manner that it had never really bothered her. Sansa however did it in a very subtle way.

Daenerys found the pin and smiled. She would stay close to Jorah tonight. It would calm her own nerves and hopefully reassure Sansa that she had no interest in Jon.

* * *

Daenerys and Jorah had left together after dinner. She had asked him to accompany her to her quarters. Jorah had the room next to hers. He stopped at his door. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Daenerys took his hand and kept walking towards her own room.

"I do think you are safe here."

"So do I. But I don't want to sleep alone." She felt safe at Winterfell. Her Unsullied were standing guard. But the surroundings were all new. She would sleep easier with Jorah by her side. Besides, she had gotten used to him being there at night and she didn't want to be apart from him.

When the door was closed, Daenerys asked, "What do you think will happen, if people find out? They hate me anyway in the North."

"They won't after you help Jon defeat the White Walkers."

"And then? They'll want their King in the North to marry the Dragon Queen? You know that is not going to happen. Better not get their hopes up." Daenerys went over to a chair and took off her outer coat, draping it over the back of the chair.

"It depends on what Jon decides."

"What?" She froze in place and stopped what she was doing, turning around slowly to look at him.

"If he decides to keep his true heritage a secret-"

"What are you suggesting? A sham marriage?"

"All I am trying to say – as your advisor – is that you should act with caution."

"And keep our relationship a secret?"

He sighed. "Yes."

"Too many people already know about it."

"Only people loyal to you."

"I told Sansa."

"What?"

"We had a rather frank discussion today."

"About what?"

"Jon and me."

"But she knows you are aunt and nephew, doesn't she?"

"Yes, but she doesn't trust me. I'd say she genuinely dislikes me. She thinks I want to marry him anyway, keeping with the Targaryen tradition. With Jon being the rightful heir, she thinks I want to marry him because it would be the only way for me to hold on to the Iron Throne. Which is not much different from what you suggested a moment ago."

"I just said that it can't hurt to act with caution." He didn't want to think about what might happen after they defeated the Night King or after they defeated Cersei. It was still far away.

"I'm tired, Jorah. It was a long day." She walked over to where he stood, putting her hands on his chest. "With what lies ahead, I don't want to spend my nights alone. Do you?"

"No."

She gave a sigh of relief. Daenerys had no doubt that he loved her, but sometimes his actions suggested the opposite. But she knew he was just doing it for her. "I do appreciate that you continue to advise me objectively. It can't be easy."

Sometimes, it was anything else but easy. But Jorah had promised to protect her and help her reclaim the Iron Throne. If that meant he had to protect her from himself, then so be it. He had brought shame to his house because his love for Lynesse had made him blind to what was right. Ironically, the consequences had made Lynesse leave him for good. Never again would he do something blindly out of love. He had made a tremendous mistake once, which had forced him to abandon his family and his home. And in order to make it undone, he had committed another grave mistake, betraying Daenerys. He had vowed to himself that there would be no more selfish actions. Daenerys' well-being would always come first for him. He placed a kiss on her forehead. "Let's get some sleep."

Daenerys continued undressing while Jorah stirred new life into the fire. Daenerys groaned.

"What is it?"

"Just my pride." Her neck, shoulders, back and legs hurt. She would have loved to take a hot bath. But she didn't want to push Lady Sansa's hospitality on the first day. "Under normal circumstances these clothes are hard to get in and out of alone, but today…"

"Let me help." Jorah walked over to her and undid the fastenings in the back of her dress.

"I am not used to sitting on a horse for so long anymore." And the cold temperatures hadn't been helpful either.

"You should have said something."

She turned slightly and gave him an angry look. "What kind of Khaleesi would I be if I couldn't stay on a horse for a day?"

He regarded her tenderly. "Lie down on the bed, on your stomach."

Daenerys changed into her nightclothes and lay down.

Jorah began massaging her back and shoulders. He started gently, warming her muscles, before he used more pressure to loosen them.

"Where did you learn that?"

"You don't want to know."

"I am aware you had a life before me."

"Several."

"Fine, several. I know you are older than me. You remind me often enough. I am getting sick of it. I don't care. And I don't care what anybody else thinks. So stop it."

He leaned down and placed a kiss on her neck. "Yes, Khaleesi."

She turned her head and looked at him annoyed.

Jorah could tell she wasn't in a particularly good mood. "Relax."

Daenerys took a deep, calming breath, trying to force all unpleasant thoughts from her mind. Jorah's fingers hit a particularly tense spot and she groaned in pain.

"Sorry." He didn't abandon the area, but used less force.

"I miss it though," Daenerys said after a while.

"You miss what?"

"The riding, the traveling. It was good, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"To ride through the grass…"

"To sit by the fire…"

"... under the stars."

Jorah continued massaging her, reducing the pressure, turning it more into a caress.

"If you continue like that, I might just fall asleep on you right here and now."

"Then do."

Daenerys turned around to face him, stretching in the process. "Already?" She ran her fingers over his chest.

"It _was_ a long day."

Her fingers stopped. She pulled her hands back against her own chest. "We don't have to…," she fell silent and looked at him with uncertainty. "If you are tired we can just… sleep…"

Jorah took her hands and kissed them tenderly, never taking his eyes off her. "Now who is making assumptions because of my age?" Jorah teased.

"I didn't mean-"

"I know." He leaned down and kissed her. "You said you were tired," he reminded her.

She sighed. "My body is exhausted, but I can't stop thinking."

"About what?"

"The looks at dinner, the whispering. Sansa is the least of my problems."

"Jon will keep them in line. They are his men. Let him handle it. Show them that you trust Jon."

"They hate me because of my father. And there's nothing I can do about that."

"It takes time to change people's minds."

Daenerys thought about Slaver's Bay. Generation after generation growing up with slavery being the norm. The North had grown up with tales of her father's cruelty. Would they ever forget? Unlikely. Would they ever forgive? Only time would tell. She couldn't force them to trust her. "They have no reason to trust me."

"Trust has to be earned."

"By sitting back and letting Jon handle it?"

"For now."

"So, as usual, your counsel is patience?"

Jorah smiled at her. "Yes."

"I guess I should follow Tyrion's example. I've never seen him so quiet and restrained."

He laughed. "Neither have I. I guess his survival instincts are stronger than his need to crack a joke."

"Are you coming to bed?"

Jorah nodded. He undressed and climbed into bed, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He could tell she was nowhere near falling asleep. Her body was tense, her breathing was rapid and an occasional sigh escaped her lips. "Let go," Jorah said. "There is nothing you can do about it at the moment, certainly not tonight."

Daenerys sighed. "I know." But she couldn't stop thinking about the day's events. About Sansa's animosity. About Jon and the northern houses and how loyal they were to him. She had left Essos behind to win the loyalty of the people of Westeros. But they had no reason at all to trust or follow her. It was Essos all over again.

"You want me to distract you?" Jorah asked, placing a soft kiss on her neck.

She reached out to stroke his cheek. "We both had a long day," she said. But her voice was neither convincing him nor herself.

"That doesn't answer my question."

Daenerys turned her head so she could look into his eyes. She was conflicted. Her body was exhausted and she should have been tired. But her mind wouldn't keep quiet. She bit her lower lip. Her eyes went to his mouth.

"Tell me what you want."

"I don't know," she whispered. But when Jorah slipped his hand beneath her nightgown she instinctively pushed closer against his body. Her body should have been satisfied and content after all the time they had spent together in bed on the ship to White Harbor. But whenever Jorah touched her like that or looked at her as if she were the only person in this world, she wanted more. It wasn't the devotion in his eyes, it was the complete openness, his refusal to hide anything of his own being from her. In that moment Daenerys realized that he had as much power over her as she had over him. She had thought that she was in control of this relationship, that she had the upper hand. But she realized that she was just as much at his mercy as he was at hers. And that she didn't want it any other way. It was irrational really. He gave her all the freedom she wanted and needed and as a result she found herself only drawn closer to him.

Jorah kissed her softly, rolling her towards him onto her back. Daenerys put her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. Tenderly, Jorah brushed his thumb over her cheek. "Don't think. Close your eyes. Remember what it felt like to ride through the Great Grass Sea." Jorah switched to Dothraki. "Remember the sound the wind made when it moved the grass, the crackling of the fire at night, the soft flapping of the tents."

Daenerys tried to relax. She focused on the crackling of the fire in the room. She concentrated on Jorah's warm lips touching her skin. She tried to move but her muscles protested. "I want to, but I don't think I have the energy tonight."

"Let me worry about that." Jorah kissed her lips until she was breathing hard. He then focused on her neck. Without undoing her nightgown, he slowly pulled up the skirt. He moved lower to place a kiss on her stomach, just below her navel. And another one even lower. And lower.

Despite her chaotic thoughts, Daenerys' body reacted to his touch. Jorah knew her body too well. And gradually thinking about anything else but his touch became almost impossible. Her thoughts were slowly fading, drowned out by his touch. And then Jorah did something he hadn't done before. Daenerys sat up abruptly and pulled her legs towards her body.

"Did I hurt you?"

She just looked at him with fury in her eyes.

"Daenerys, did I hurt you?"

"You told him."

"What?" Jorah was at a total loss. He had not the slightest idea what had just happened.

"You told Drogo how to do that."

It slowly dawned on him. He took a deep breath. "Yes. I suppose I did."

"How could you?"

"Daenerys…" He reached out to touch her knee, to calm her down. But she quickly pulled her legs even closer towards her body and hugged them.

Jorah looked like she had hit him.

"You told him."

"I did. But I don't understand why that upsets you so much."

"You went behind my back. You talked to my husband about-"

"What should I have told him when he came to me? Should I have sent him away when he asked me what Westerosi women like in bed?"

Daenerys was taken aback. " _He_ came to _you_?"

"Yes. Drogo came to me and asked me for advice. He wanted to please you. He wanted you to be happy. We never talked about what happened between you and him in your tent. I swear it."

"I thought Doreah taught him. Which didn't sit too well with me. But I didn't dare ask. I guess that explains why… well… It was a beautiful gesture that he even tried but… he didn't have the patience for it."

"Daenerys, if I had suggested something like this to Drogo, implying that he wasn't a good lover, do you really think he would have left me alive?"

"I guess not." She looked at him with remorse. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

Jorah lay down on his back. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and exhaled audibly.

She reached for his hand. "I'm sorry. You have to be patient with me. You know I have a temper."

He laughed. "That you do." He was used to her temper but this had come out of nowhere and at the most unexpected moment.

"You don't have to agree with everything I say."

"Even when it's true?"

"I am really sorry, Jorah. I should have known better." Daenerys was aware that she had upset and offended him with her reaction.

Jorah sat up. "Listen to me. I know you have a temper. And I can deal with it. This probably won't be our last argument. But please promise me that you give me a chance to explain. Don't just run off."

"You mean like when I ran off on Drogon into the storm?"

Jorah nodded.

"I promise I'll try. But you might have to remind me."

Jorah leaned against the headboard and held his hand out to her. Relieved Daenerys took it and made herself comfortable against his chest.

"What exactly did you tell Drogo?" she asked.

"Daenerys…" That was dangerous territory. He found her temper endearing, but one outburst per night was enough for him.

"You said you didn't talk about me and him. What did you tell him?"

"Fine. Just remember you asked for it."

She nodded. "I promise."

"I told him that every woman was different. But that most women, at least in my experience, find it very pleasurable when a man makes love to her with his mouth. He found that very amusing."

"I can imagine."

"He said," Jorah thought about the exact wording for a moment and reverted to Dothraki, "that's like tickling a man with a sword before killing him."

"That sounds like him. Like any Dothraki probably. What else did you tell him?"

"I told him that both my wives were very agreeable to this kind of foreplay."

Daenerys looked at him surprised. "You were married twice?"

"I… yes."

"You only told me about Lynesse."

"My first wife died. It was a long time ago."

"I'm sorry." Daenerys could tell he didn't want to talk about it. She would ask him about it another time. Resuming their earlier topic, she asked, "There is no word for foreplay in Dothraki, is there?"

"No. It took a bit of time to explain the concept to him."

"He did understand the concept in the end, but the execution… not so much. But he tried anyway."

"He loved you, Daenerys. I never thought he would go against the Dothraki way as much as he did. He didn't have to. But he did it for you." Jorah had always respected Drogo. He wasn't jealous of a dead man. He was glad Daenerys had been happy with Drogo, if only for a short time.

"I know. Thank you for telling me."

Jorah got up and put some more logs onto the fire. When he was done he just stood there and looked into the flames. He needed a moment to himself.

"Jorah?" He stood with his back to her and didn't speak or move at all. "I'm truly sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I don't know what came over me. I do trust you."

Jorah went back to the bed and sat down, contemplating if he should broach what was on his mind. "Are you sure?"

Daenerys looked at him stunned. "What?"

"Are you sure that you trust me?"

"Why would you ask me that? I trust you more than anyone else."

He sighed. "Do you?"

"Jorah, I don't understand..."

"We've never really talked about my betrayal since I came back." He noticed her tense up when he said the word 'betrayal'. "Whenever it comes up, you refuse to talk about it. At first I thought it was because we had truly put it behind us. But I am not so sure anymore. And I don't blame you. I shattered your trust in me in the worst possible way. I know I hurt you deeply. It was my fault you almost got killed."

"How can you say that I don't trust you?" Daenerys asked incredulously. "You are the commander of my armies. You are my advisor. I let you into my bed and into my heart. I've made myself more vulnerable to you than to anybody else. Do you not realize what power you have over me, more than ever before? Why would I give you that if I didn't trust you?" She gently stroked his cheek. "Maybe you just haven't forgiven yourself, have you considered that?"

"True, and I will probably never completely forgive myself."

"I've forgiven you, Jorah."

"Look at me and tell me that it doesn't still hurt when you think about it."

Gods, it did hurt. There was no question about it. She never let herself dwell on it for more than a few seconds because it hurt so badly. His betrayal had shocked her to her core. "Yes, it does. You hurt me deeply. It hurt unbearably." Daenerys had tears in her eyes. "And you are right that I don't like to think about it. My world almost fell apart. You were the one constant that held it all together, my past, my future, my present. I know why you did it. I understand the reasons. That doesn't justify what you did. And it doesn't make it hurt any less. But I am glad you didn't give up on us. I am truly grateful for that, for your stubbornness. I didn't have the strength. That's why I kept banishing you. I didn't have the strength to deal with it. I needed time."

Jorah nodded, understanding in his eyes. "But a moment ago you thought I went behind your back with Khal Drogo."

"That was... before…"

"Do you doubt everything that happened before you banished me?" Jorah asked carefully.

Daenerys had to think about that. But before she could answer, Jorah continued.

"Other than my reporting to Varys I was always honest with you. There is nothing I kept from you or lied to you about."

"I have hardly enough information to distinguish between what was a lie and what was real," she replied testily.

It pained Jorah to think that Daenerys doubted their whole time together before his banishment. "Then ask. Ask me anything you want."

She wasn't sure she wanted to go down this path. There were things she had wondered about, but she was unsure if she really wanted to find out the truth. Finally Daenerys worked up the courage and asked, "How often did you report to Varys?"

"I'm not quite sure." It had been so long ago and Jorah was also guilty of trying to suppress those particular memories. "Maybe five or six times. At the beginning it was mostly about your brother, not you."

Daenerys asked one question after the other, with Jorah answering all of them without hesitation or evading the ugly truth.

"When you became pregnant, that was the last time. I swear I didn't think they would harm you or your child. I thought they just wanted to keep an eye on you. As long as you were in Essos I thought you were safe. After I realized how far they were willing to go I never had contact with Varys again."

"You already had your pardon," Daenerys pointed out irritably. The anger in her voice surprised even herself.

That stung, but Jorah didn't protest.

"I'm sorry. It just slipped out." For a fleeting moment, her mind had been carried back to Meereen, to his trial. Daenerys closed her eyes, trying to make the images go away. "Enough, Jorah. I'm exhausted. And talking about it doesn't make me feel any better." She realized that Jorah had probably needed this more than she had, confessing everything he had done behind her back. "Maybe it will always hurt to think about it. I wish it had never happened. But it did happen and we both have to live with it."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to relieve all those painful memories again. That wasn't my intention."

"And I didn't intend to make you feel like I hadn't forgiven you. I admit that I've been avoiding it. I don't like to dwell on it. I want to look forward."

Jorah nodded in agreement.

Daenerys yawned. It was deep into the night by now.

"We should really get some sleep," Jorah said. He extinguished the candles and pulled her close.

"I do trust you," Daenerys whispered, almost asleep already. "I know that without a doubt, because if I didn't trust you, I couldn't be in love with you."

In the darkness, Jorah sought her lips and kissed her. The kiss was short and gentle. And he could feel her smile against his lips. Without another word they fell asleep.


	14. Viserion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating this story. It certainly wasn't for lack of reviews. Your reviews had me floored. I had a blast reading them. Thank you so much!!!
> 
> Some of you will have noticed that the delay here was due to a little side project. Because Season 8 happened and my way of dealing with it was to start writing another fic. It's surprisingly difficult to keep the two stories apart, since the characters are similar in some ways but not the same. Therefore I can only focus on one story at a time. Don't want to be like Season 8 and be inconsistent with my characters. ;-)
> 
> The last chapter had a heavy focus on Daenerys. This one features a multitude of characters: Tyrion, Sansa, Daenerys, Jorah, Arya, Gendry, Jon, Missandei, Grey Worm and Varys. I'm really starting to like writing other (minor) characters. It's all Varys' fault, cause it started with him. It's fun, but it also means this story is getting much more complex and longer than originally planned. But what's new, right?
> 
> Let's finally get on with it. Longest chapter so far (6,500 words). Enjoy!

"The last time I was in Winterfell, it was cold," Tyrion said. "But now the cold feels different."

"It is different," Sansa agreed. "Even on sunny days, and there are not many, it stays cold."

"Well, my dream of starting my own vineyard is obsolete anyway. Unless I move to Dorne. And my death would be absolutely certain there."

Sansa raised an eyebrow. "Your own vineyard?"

Tyrion just shrugged his shoulders, knowing how silly that dream was.

"Dorne might be certain death for you. But Winterfell is just as dangerous for a Lannister. You are brave to travel so far north again. The last time you were in these parts of Westeros you ended up as my mother's captive."

"Your mother was an extraordinary woman."

Sansa nodded silently. Before she could dwell on that thought, she asked, "So why did you come back?"

"I am the Hand of the Dragon Queen. I go where she goes."

Sansa regarded him with scrutiny. "Why are you serving her?"

"Cersei can't be allowed to sit on the Iron Throne. She cares nothing for the people of Westeros. She only cares about power. She doesn't hesitate to kill anyone who might be a threat to her. And I am on top of her wish list for the executioner."

"So it's about revenge for you?"

"No."

"You could have gone anywhere, done anything you would have liked after you escaped from King's Landing. Why did you choose to follow Daenerys?"

"As Aerys' daughter, she has a claim to the Iron Throne."

"You believe Daenerys is the better alternative?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Sansa knew Tyrion was a clever man. She genuinely wanted to understand why he had chosen to support Daenerys.

Tyrion looked at her curiously. Why was Sansa asking him all these questions? Did she not want Cersei gone? "You know what Cersei is capable of."

"Yes, of course I do."

And then it started to dawn on Tyrion. "You don't trust Daenerys," he deducted.

"I have no reason to trust her."

Tyrion had to admit that after what Sansa had been through it would be hard for her to trust people. It made sense that she would start off with not trusting someone until they proved to be worthy of her trust, instead of the other way around.

"And she doesn't seem to trust us," Sansa said.

"Why do you say that?"

"She has posted several Unsullied in front of her quarters. Inside Winterfell, as if we were the enemy."

Tyrion sighed. "That has nothing to do with you. There was an attempt on her life the night before we left Dragonstone. Some assassins managed to get inside the castle and almost killed her. We've gotten more careful since then."

"She certainly trusts you," Sansa said. "Or she wouldn't have made you her Hand."

"Well, at that time there weren't that many contenders around."

"I think you are selling yourself short."

"Pun intended?"

"Maybe."

"I am good at talking," Tyrion conceded. "The Hand is expected to talk a lot. Actually, talking is the only thing I am good at. Besides drinking. I am really good at that too. And I know how my sister thinks."

"Daenerys keeps a strange group of people around her," Sansa remarked.

"Strange? In what way?"

"You and Varys both served under King Robert and then under Joffrey. One half of her army consists of horselords – some would call them savages – and the other half are former slaves. And her lover sold people into slavery." There didn't seem to be any pattern in the people she surrounded herself with. They didn't seem to have much in common. Sansa wasn't sure what to make of Daenerys.

Tyrion looked at her surprised. "Who told you about Ser Jorah?"

"It's common knowledge in the North that he sold-"

"No, the other part."

"That they are involved? Daenerys told me."

Tyrion had noticed that Daenerys and Sansa hardly exchanged a word in public. They appeared to be rather cold towards each other. Why would Daenerys tell Sansa about Jorah?

"You want her to marry Jon, don't you?" Sansa asked.

The question confused Tyrion. He was aware that Jon wanted to tell Sansa and Arya about his true heritage. Had Jon not gotten around to it yet? "I am just her Hand. It doesn't matter what I want."

" _You_ invited Jon to Dragonstone," Sansa said. "I don't believe that marriage hasn't crossed your mind. It would be in your Queen's best interest. Marrying the King in the North would take her one step closer to the Iron Throne."

"Possibly," Tyrion said cautiously. "But she has done quite well without a husband so far."

"A queen without a husband?"

"Why not? Cersei is ruling without a husband."

"Daenerys will need a husband eventually."

"You don't want Jon to marry her," Tyrion realized.

"As I said before, I don't trust her."

"Jon seems to trust her. Daenerys came here to help Jon fight the Night King."

"Nobody helps somebody else just because they are good and selfless. Everybody wants something in return."

Tyrion regarded Sansa with a sad expression. What must she have been through to have become so cynic? He had to remind himself of the words he had spoken to Jon on the ship: You can't stay sweet and innocent and survive in this world. But to see Sansa so bitter and distrustful pained Tyrion more than he had expected. "I agree that a certain level of caution is wise. But if nobody trusts anybody, this world would be doomed. If Jon hadn't trusted Daenerys in the first place, she wouldn't have come here to fight besides him. And I trusted you not to kill me as revenge for what my family did to your family."

"Tell me honestly, do _you_ trust Daenerys?"

"Yes," Tyrion replied without hesitation. Not quite sure why he cared, he asked, "Do you trust me?"

"I don't know," Sansa admitted. She had even mistrusted Arya at one point. "I don't know if I trust anyone anymore. Trust makes you vulnerable. I trusted Joffrey. I trusted Littlefinger. I trusted Ramsey. I trusted other people to make the right decisions for me. I trusted other people to protect me. And what did it get me? I highly doubt trust is what got your Queen to where she is today. If other people want to trust, fine, so be it. But I won't make those mistakes again."

Tyrion sighed. Sansa seemed determined not to trust Daenerys, or anybody else for that matter. And he couldn't really blame her. The silence became awkward and for once Tyrion didn't know what to say.

"Do you know what happened to Shae?" Sansa asked suddenly. "Is she still in King's Landing?"

Tyrion looked at her in shock. It had been a while since he had thought about Shae. "I… I…" He lowered his eyes and stared at his feet. "She is dead."

"Dead? How?"

Tyrion looked at Sansa for a while, wanting to tell her the truth, but he couldn't find the courage. "King's Landing is a dangerous place," he simply said.

"She was killed, wasn't she?"

"Yes."

"Because she was my maid?"

"No. It had nothing to do with you."

"How do you know?" Sansa asked skeptically.

"It had nothing to do with you. Believe me."

"How do you know?" she asked again. This time, her voice had a more demanding tone.

Tyrion sighed. He decided on a half-truth. "It was because of me. Shae was my lover. I made her your maid in order to protect her, but also to have her close. That's what got her killed."

Sansa let that sink in. Shae had been Trion's lover? She had never noticed. But back then she had been naïve and only saw what she wanted to see. She had truly liked Shae. Shae had been very protective of her. She had almost been like a friend. "I'm very sorry," Sansa said.

Tyrion lowered his head, not able to look at Sansa. "I should go and… um… see if the Queen needs me."

* * *

Jon took Jorah aside. "I received a raven from Tormund. Eastwatch was attacked. Or rather destroyed. Tormund and the other survivors are on their way here."

"Destroyed by the wights?" Jorah asked.

"Yes. And by… Viserion."

"Viserion? He's dead. Even if the spear didn't kill him, he would have drowned."

"He _is_ dead." Jon sighed. "He is one of _them_."

"What?" Jorah's eyes widened in shock. "How sure are you?"

"He brought down the Wall."

"What?" Was that even possible?

"Bran confirmed it."

Jorah didn't speak for a moment.

"We need to tell her," Jon said. "Will you do it?"

Jorah nodded.

* * *

Daenerys had just finished her bath when Jorah entered.

"That's the first time in ages I feel really warm. Not just not cold, but warm." She put on her night clothes and went over to the bed. Neither of them had gotten much sleep the night before and the hot water had made her drowsy. "I think I will sleep really well tonight." Daenerys pulled the covers up to her chin, wanting to conserve the heat for as long as possible.

Jorah just watched her, not sure what to do.

"Is everything alright?"

He remained silent and avoided her eyes. Jorah knew he had to tell her, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Jorah?"

He took a deep breath. He still couldn't look at her. If he told her now, she would get no sleep at all tonight. "It's nothing important," Jorah said. It wasn't quite true, but there was nothing either of them could do about it. "It can wait until tomorrow."

Daenerys sat up. "What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you in the morning," he said and turned his back on her, starting to undress.

"Jorah, look at me."

He stopped what he was doing but didn't kept his back to her.

"You are starting to worry me."

Trying to keep his face expressionless, he turned around. "It won't make any difference if I tell you tonight or tomorrow."

"And you think after telling me that you have bad news for me in the morning I will be able to sleep?"

"It won't make a difference, none at all. Please, trust me on this."

"Does Jon know?"

"Yes."

Daenerys pushed back the covers and pulled on her shoes. "Then I will go and ask him."

Jorah didn't try to talk her out of it.

She was halfway to the door when she suddenly stopped. "It won't make any difference?"

"No."

"Do you swear it?"

"Yes."

Daenerys closed her eyes and sighed. She knew how important her trust was to him, especially after what had happened the night before. It cost her a great deal of self-control to not go and ask Jon. Suddenly a horrible thought crossed her mind. "Did something happen to Missandei or Grey Worm?"

"No," Jorah said quickly. "They should arrive any day now."

Daenerys returned to bed, crawling back under the covers. She eyed Jorah, trying to guess what had happened. It probably had to do with Cersei. But Cersei was far away and whatever she was doing or planning, they had no choice but to ignore her for the time being.

After extinguishing the candles Jorah joined her in bed. He knew Daenerys could order him to tell her. She was the Queen. But she chose not to. She was doing this for him. Jorah hated himself for being such a coward. He had to tell her eventually. It was inevitable. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to spare her the pain. But he knew in this case he couldn't.

Tired from the warm bath and the lack of sleep the night before, Daenerys fell asleep quickly. Jorah on the other hand hardly got any sleep at all. He dreaded the moment the sun would rise and he would have to tell her that one of her beloved dragons was now following the commands of the Night King.

* * *

When Jorah opened his eyes in the morning, Daenerys was already awake, looking at him.

"Tell me."

Trying to force himself awake, he sat up and took a deep breath. "It's about Viserion," he said. "The Night King… he resurrected him. Viserion is one of them now."

Daenerys sat up as well. "That can't be."

"I saw the White Walkers riding dead horses. We were attacked by a dead bear. I don't see why a dragon should be-"

Daenerys raised her hand to make him stop. "Did anyone actually see him or is it just rumors?"

"Viserion brought down the Wall," Jorah said as gently as possible. "I don't know of anything else that could destroy the Wall."

Daenerys just stared ahead, trying to process what Jorah was telling her. "It can't be," she said after a while. Having seen the enormous structure with her own eyes, she couldn't comprehend how anyone or anything could damage the Wall in such a way that it would collapse, not even one of her dragons.

"Eastwatch was destroyed. The survivors are on their way to Winterfell."

"Him being that… That's much worse than being dead."

"I'm so sorry," Jorah whispered, not knowing what else to say.

"It was my fault. I took them up there." She had caused Viserion's death. She was responsible for them. She hadn't been able to protect them. She had underestimated the White Walkers, had underestimated what they were capable of. And it had cost Viserion his life.

"If you hadn't, we would all be dead. Jon, me, Beric, Tormund."

"Don't make it sound like it's alright. It's not."

Jorah just wanted to take away her pain but didn't know how. He was about to take her hand, but she chose that moment to get up, moving out of his reach.

At breakfast Daenerys didn't speak and hardly ate at all, just picking at her food. Jon and Jorah exchanged looks. It was obvious that Jorah had told her. Without saying anything, Daenerys rose from the table and left.

* * *

The Dothraki, led by Ser Davos and Gendry, arrived later that day. When Gendry caught sight of Arya, shock was written all over his face.

Gendry dismounted. "Arya?" He couldn't quite believe she was here. Arya didn't look surprised at all to see him. Jon must have told her.

"I thought you were dead," Arya said.

"No, I'm still very much alive," Gendry replied and took a few steps towards her. "Sometimes I wonder how though."

"Same here." Arya took a step towards him. "It's a long story."

"Yeah, same here," he replied.

And then Arya hugged him.

Jon approached them. "You could have mentioned that you know my sister," he said somewhat accusingly to Gendry. "I thought she was dead."

Gendry and Arya separated. "It didn't cross my mind," Gendry said apologetically.

* * *

Missandei and Grey Worm approached Jorah. "Where is the Queen?" Missandei asked.

Jorah looked around, not for the first time. He had expected her to be here to greet the Dothraki. "She received some bad news. Viserion has been resurrected by the Night King."

Missandei knew how much the dragons meant to Daenerys. "She must be devastated."

"She's been avoiding everyone. I thought she would be here though." Jorah hadn't seen her since this morning and was starting to get worried. Maybe she was seeking comfort in the presence of Drogon and Rhaegal.

"An undead dragon? That is very bad," Grey Worm said.

"Yes, and the wights broke through the Wall with his help. We won't have much time to prepare for battle."

While Ser Jorah was bringing Grey Worm up to speed, Missandei looked around. Not in her wildest dreams could she have imagined how cold it could get in the North. Just standing still for a few moments made her feel the cold even more. The Northerners didn't seem cold though. They seemed to be used to these temperatures. Despite the beauty of the landscape, Missandei hoped they wouldn't stay here for too long. She doubted she would ever get used to this cold.

Despite Ser Jorah's worries about the behavior of the Dothraki, the trip had gone rather well. The Dothraki had been glad to be on the move. There hadn't been much need for Missandei to act as interpreter. The whole group had fallen into a routine fairly quickly. There had been moments when she had doubted the wisdom of traveling on land though. The Dothraki had ridden hard and long and the nights had been very cold. But then she had looked at Grey Worm and most of her troubles had been forgotten. She had enjoyed the close quarters with him. It had been bitterly cold at night, but Grey Worm had kept her warm. She had also enjoyed the company of Ser Davos and Gendry. Especially Ser Davos had many stories to tell. But she was glad that they had finally reached Winterfell. Right now a warm fire was all Missandei wanted.

* * *

It was starting to get dark when Daenerys reappeared.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," Jorah said. "Where were you?"

Daenerys walked past him. "Do I have to tell you where I am all the time?"

"No, of course not. But… I was getting worried." Jorah followed her. "Where were you?"

"I flew to the Wall."

Jorah stopped. He couldn't believe his ears. "You did what?"

She continued walking to her room. "I had to see it with my own eyes."

Jorah ran after her. "Tell me you didn't." His voice became louder. "Tell me you didn't do that!"

Daenerys tried to slam the door shut, but Jorah caught it, following her.

"Why would you…" Jorah started. But then it dawned on him. "You wouldn't do something as stupid as that just to see the broken Wall."

She averted her eyes, only for a split second, but it was enough for him to know he was right.

"You did it because of Viserion. You did it to see Viserion, didn't you?"

Daenerys turned her back to him.

Her silence was answer enough for him. "That is the most reckless thing you have ever done!" Jorah's voice became louder with each word. "Why? For what?" She had put herself in danger for nothing. "Didn't I just ask you last night, didn't you promise me, that you would not just do something rash and run off?"

"That was different."

"How was that different?"

"That was between you and me. This was about my dragon."

"And therefore it doesn't concern me?" Jorah asked incredulously. "Whenever your safety is concerned, it _does_ concern me. If you do something to endanger your life, it _does_ concern me." In more ways than one. If something happened to her he didn't know what he would do. "What were you thinking? How could you be so reckless?"

She turned and glared at him. "I can do whatever I want. I am still your Queen."

"I am trying to protect my Queen and the woman I love at the same time. And you are making that anything else but easy at times."

Daenerys turned away from him again, aware that disappearing without a word would have made him worry, but not really caring at the moment. All she could think about was Viserion.

"You endangered your life. What if the Night King had attacked you and Drogon? Did you even consider that? You are too important to risk your life like that. I know I have to stand by and let you fight out there on Drogon when the time comes. But this was completely unnecessary. It was too great a risk. For nothing!" Daenerys didn't show the slightest reaction. Her silence fueled Jorah's anger even more. He could deal with her yelling at him. But her silence was something new and he didn't know how to handle it. She seemed to be completely lost in her own world. "Are you listening to me? Have you heard a word I said?" Jorah took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on his anger. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Did you see him?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer, even though she was standing in front of him alive and unharmed.

She turned around slowly and nodded. "I did," she said in a whisper.

Even though Jorah had anticipated that answer, a cold shiver ran down his spine. And then Daenerys looked at him, really looked at him for the first time that day. Jorah could see the defeat, the vulnerability in her eyes. She was asking him to understand, to make it better. He was torn between going to her and yelling at her some more for risking her life needlessly. But for once Jorah refused to relent so easily. He was still furiously angry with her. How could he protect her if she did things like that?

Daenerys just stood there, unable to form a clear thought. She didn't know what to do. She just wanted the images in her head to stop, the images of her Viserion, with blue eyes.

Jorah almost took a step towards her but stopped himself, reminding himself his highest priority was to protect her. He was at his wit's end. He sat down in one of the chairs close to the fireplace. The tension that had built up while he had been searching for her allover Winterfell, eventually turning into worry and anxiety, started to melt away. He felt drained. Moreover, he was shocked by his outburst and loss of control. He had never yelled at her before.

* * *

Jon was sitting in the great hall with Tyrion and Sansa when Sam came in. "Jon, you have to come quickly. Ser Jorah and the Queen are having a fight."

"Really?" Tyrion said.

"He is yelling at her."

"Now that doesn't make any sense whatsoever," Tyrion said. "Try it the other way around."

* * *

When Jon, Tyrion and Sansa arrived, the door to the Queen's room was still open. Nobody was shouting. Actually, it was dead quiet. Daenerys stood in the middle of the room, rigid. Jorah sat in a chair next to the fireplace. Neither spoke, neither looked at the other. They didn't even seem to realize they had company.

"What is going on?" Jon asked.

Jorah turned his head to look at Jon and then at Daenerys. He feared that anything he said might turn into shouting again. He had known that the news about Viserion would affect her deeply, but that she would react in such an extreme way was beyond him. And it made him feel helpless. Why hadn't she come to him?

"I saw Viserion," Daenerys said quietly.

"What?" Jon asked, thinking he misheard. "Where?"

"Near the Wall," she answered.

Jon looked at Daenerys incredulously. "You flew to the Wall? Alone? Why? What were you thinking?"

Tyrion realized that Sam had indeed spoken the truth. It was hard to imagine Jorah yelling at the Queen. But under these circumstances, if she had willingly endangered her life, Tyrion could see how that would push Jorah to lose his temper. "Jon, maybe you and Ser Jorah should go and have a drink," Tyrion suggested. Neither of them was calm enough to talk to her. "Go. Sansa and I will stay with her," he reassured them.

* * *

Tyrion came back down into the great hall. "Sansa managed to get her to go to bed. I am not sure she is sleeping though. I doubt it."

Jorah hadn't touched his wine.

Tyrion went to stand in front of him. "She is alright."

"I yelled at her," Jorah said.

"Well, she probably deserved it." And no one else would have had the courage to do so, Tyrion thought. Or gotten away with it.

"She's the Queen."

"Queen or not, she did something very stupid, tremendously stupid. But she is alive and well."

"I know her dragons are her children. But Viserion is dead. She knew that. She didn't risk her life for Drogon or Rhaegal. She risked it for nothing." Jorah took a deep breath. "She's always been unreasonable when it came to her dragons." He thought back to Qarth and how she had disregarded her own safety when they had been stolen. "Daenerys would do anything for them."

"She really believes they are her children?" Jon asked.

"She raised them as such," Jorah said. "They have known no other mother but her."

"Well, she does have the temper of a dragon," Jon remarked.

"One day that temper of hers is gonna get her killed." Tyrion turned on Jorah. "You are supposed to keep her from doing something impulsive."

"I am trying to protect her as best as I can".

"Well, next time try harder."

"Better be careful what you say," Jorah warned him.

"Stop it. Both of you," Jon said. "There was no way to keep this from her. And the real problem is how do we deal with an undead dragon?"

* * *

Arya and Gendry had been observing everything from across the hall. After dinner, they had found a quiet corner, where they could drink their mulled wine undisturbed, talking about their adventures. By now Arya knew about Gendry's real father. Her only reaction had been a confused look – but only for a second – and then a shrug. Arya was much more interested in his dealings with the Red Priestess and his travels beyond the Wall. She already knew the rough outline of their trip north from Jon but wanted to hear more about it from Gendry.

Arya wasn't really interested in the commotion across the hall. She had been worried about Jon marrying Daenerys because she didn't want Jon to leave. She wanted him to stay in Winterfell. But once she had found out about Jon and Daenerys being aunt and nephew and Jon assuring them that he didn't intend to marry her, in Arya's mind the issue was dealt and done with. "Go on," she pushed Gendry. "Tell me what happened next."

But Gendry observed what was happening. "I knew they were sleeping with each other, but I didn't think-"

"Who?"

"Ser Jorah and the Dragon Queen."

"What?"

"I thought it was just a casual thing, a diversion. But he's devastated. Even though the Queen is perfectly fine."

"He is her advisor and general. Isn't he also responsible for her safety?"

"No, that's not what this is about." Gendry looked at her. "Your skills when it comes to dealings of the heart are not very refined. The Faceless Men didn't teach you about that, did they?"

Arya looked at him, not sure if he was trying to insult her or not. "Love makes you weak," Arya said, more spiteful than she had intended.

"Really?"

Arya pointed across the room. "There's your proof."

"And what made you write your death list?"

"Hate."

"And why did you hate those people?"

"Because they killed-"

"-people you loved," Gendry finished for her, looking at her long and hard.

Eventually Arya had to look away.

Gendry looked towards where Jon, Jorah and Tyrion were still sitting. "Ser Jorah loves the Queen. He imagined what it would be like if she had gotten killed out there. And he couldn't even deal with the idea of it."

"You thought I was dead," Arya said.

Gendry kept looking ahead. "No. Not for one moment." Then he turned towards her. "I never once allowed myself to think you were dead."

* * *

When Jorah returned to Daenerys' quarters, he was surprised to find Sansa still there. Daenerys was lying in bed, facing away from him, curled into a ball.

"Thank you for staying with her, Lady Stark," Jorah said quietly.

"Of course." Sansa stood up and walked towards the door. Strangely, she could empathize with Daenerys. Her dragons were huge, frightening monsters, capable of killing hundreds of people with just one breath of fire. But Daenerys was mourning her dragon as if it had been a person. Like Sansa had mourned Lady. Other people had seen nothing but a beast in her beloved direwolf. She still missed Lady, maybe now more than ever. Lady would have never betrayed or abandoned her.

Jorah went over to the bed and sat down, not quite sure what to do. He could tell she wasn't asleep. He refrained from touching her. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," he said. "I didn't mean to. You scared me. The thought of not being able to protect you is unbearable to me." He waited for her to say something, but she didn't. "Do you want to be alone?"

She didn't answer.

"Daenerys? Do you want me to leave?"

Still no reaction.

Jorah sighed. "I will be next door if you need me." He started to get up.

"Don't leave," Daenerys said, barely audible. "Don't ever leave me."

He lay down on the bed and put his arms around her. "Never."

Sansa quietly closed the door before one of them would notice her. She hadn't meant to intrude on their privacy. She had simply wanted to make sure Daenerys was okay with Ser Jorah being there.

Sansa had never met a woman who had been able to choose her own husband or been able to refuse to marry at all. She had always thought that a distinguished man from a noble house would be the way to go and that it would ensure love and happiness. How wrong she had been. Joffrey had been king and Ramsay had been Lord of Winterfell. The kindest of her betrothed had been a dwarf who was a drinker. Sansa had to admit that appearances could be deceiving.

Before she had met Daenerys, Sansa had thought her arrogant, proud and ruthless. And she still wasn't quite sure what to make of her. To choose someone like Ser Jorah, a disgraced knight much older than her, was a strange choice when she could pick any man in Westeros and Essos. It was a choice that didn't fit into the picture Sansa had of Daenerys. Despite having gotten quite good at reading people, Sansa couldn't figure her out.

* * *

During the night, Daenerys woke up several times, plagued by nightmares. Jorah held her close, but it was all he could do. "Talk to me," he offered. But she didn't speak a word. They both drifted in and out of consciousness until the morning.

"If I could take away your pain, I would," Jorah said.

"I wasn't completely reckless. We were careful."

Jorah looked at her doubtfully but kept quiet, glad that she was talking to him at all.

"We stayed close to the clouds. At the first sign of danger I would have turned around, hiding in the clouds."

"What exactly happened?"

"They were on the ground, not far from the Wall. They saw us. We kept our distance and they didn't make any attempt to come closer or follow us."

"You could not have known how Drogon would react. What if he had attacked Viserion? Or Viserion Drogon?" He closed his eyes. It was pointless now. "Gods, Daenerys. I hate the thought of having to stand by when you go out there on Drogon. I know I can't stop you and I know we won't win without Drogon and Rhaegal, especially now that the Night King has Viserion. But please, please, be careful. We need you. I need you."

"I don't have a death wish, Jorah. You know I usually let you or Grey Worm fight my battles for me. But this I had to do myself."

"Why? Why did you go to see him?"

"Because… I had to see for myself that he's… not my Viserion anymore. There was always a connection. I could feel them. But when I saw Viserion there was nothing." She sat up in bed, putting her legs over the edge, willing herself to get up.

"Stay in bed. Nobody is expecting you at breakfast."

Daenerys ignored his advice and dressed.

Jorah watched her silently from the bed.

She reached for her dragon chain, but instead of putting it on she just held it in her hands and stared at it. Three dragon heads stared back at her, mocking her.

Jorah got up and gently took the chain from her. "Did you ever really mourn him?"

"I… there wasn't time." The truth was, she had been afraid to deal with it. She had just moved on, trying to forget. And now she had lost him all over again, to some evil power that wouldn't let her dragon rest in peace.

Jorah led her back to the bed and made her sit down. Her face was defiant, but her body offered no resistance. Jorah took her hands. "It catches up with you. If not now, then another time. Believe me, I know." He had refused to deal with his father's death until Sam's account of the circumstances had smashed it right back into his face.

"We will be late for breakfast." Daenerys tried to get up.

He held her in place and just looked at her. Her façade was starting to crumble.

"Jorah," she said warningly. She needed to leave or she wouldn't be able to control her emotions any longer. She stood up, but Jorah blocked her way and held on to her arms. "Let go!" Daenerys started to struggle, but he pulled her close against his body. She had no chance of getting free. He was much stronger than her. It shouldn't have surprised her. But he had never used his physical strength to his advantage before. "Let me go!"

"Not when you are hurting like this."

She stopped struggling, but her whole body was tense. Jorah slightly relaxed his grip on her, but kept his arms around her. "What are you hoping to achieve by going down for breakfast? What are you trying to prove? That the death of your child doesn't affect you?"

"Jorah," she pleaded. He knew exactly what he was doing by referring to Viserion as her child.

"I know you have to be strong out there. You are strong. Nobody knows better than me how strong you are. But right here, right now, you don't have to be. Not with me. I won't think any less of you. I know you hurt. I wish you would allow yourself to be yourself with me, to admit how much it hurts. Like you allowed me when Sam told me how my father died."

She leaned against him. "This has nothing to do with you. I am just afraid that if I let go now I won't be able to get myself back together."

"You will. I know you will. And I am here to help you."

That was all it took to unleash the tears. Daenerys held on to his shirt and wept bitterly. Jorah tightened his arms around her. Eventually, he lifted her into his arms and moved them to the bed, trying to make them more comfortable. Jorah pulled her against his body, caressing her back in slow and soothing movements. After a while she became very quiet and her breathing gradually returned to a calm and regular pattern.

"You know when I missed you the most?" she asked.

"No."

"When I locked up Rhaegal and Viserion."

"When was that?"

"In Meereen, just after you left. I wasn't really myself to start with. I felt vulnerable, because you were gone. And then came this man and showed me the burnt corpse of his little daughter."

"Drogon?"

"Yes. How do you know?"

"When you were sick you had a nightmare. You were asking for Drogon and said he had killed a little girl."

"Yes. But Drogon had disappeared. So I locked up Rhaegal and Viserion instead. They didn't deserve it. But I didn't know what else to do. I really wanted you there. Because you are the only one who really understands what they truly mean to me. Even if you keep cautioning me that they are wild animals."

"I know your love for them is unconditional. They are your family."

Suddenly Daenerys looked up.

"What is it?" Jorah asked.

"I need to talk to Jon."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. It's important."

He placed a kiss on her forehead. "Stay here. I'll get him."

After Jorah had left, Daenerys got up and rinsed her face with some water. For once she didn't mind the cold temperature.

Jon arrived only a short time later. "Jorah said you wanted to-" He noticed her red eyes. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "I will be. We need to talk. About dragons."

Jon looked at her unsure.

"You are half Targaryen. Only Targaryens can ride dragons. I think you can too."

"Ride a dragon? Are you out of your mind?"

"If we want to take down the Night King, and Viserion, you need to ride Rhaegal."

"You can't be serious."

"You have to if we want to have a chance against them. When I fly on Drogon, Rhaegal follows. I can't command two dragons at once, not in the battle that lies ahead of us."

"I don't speak Valyrian."

"I'll teach you a few commands. But it's more about trust and building a connection with them."

"You had years to build a connection with them."

"Are you afraid?" Daenerys challenged him.

"Of course I am."

"Just think of Rhaegal as a very big horse."

"A horse?" Jon looked at her incredulously. "Just with scales and wings and sharp teeth."

Daenerys grabbed her coat. "Let's go."

"Now?"

"We are running out of time."

"Can I finish breakfast first?" Jon asked, not really hungry anymore, but hoping he could postpone the inevitable just a little bit longer.

"Maybe you better finish breakfast afterwards," Daenerys suggested.

* * *

"Did you see who was flying on Rhaegal this morning?" Varys asked Tyrion.

"Yes."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Dragons are not known to let anyone but a Targaryen ride on their backs," Varys said.

"They let me touch them when I unchained them in Meereen. And Drogon carried Ser Jorah, Lord Beric and Tormund back from beyond the Wall."

"Together with Daenerys," Varys pointed out. "Jon was riding Rhaegal on his own."

"Dragons are very smart," Tyrion said. "It wouldn't surprise me if they are a good judge of character."

Varys raised his eyebrows and regarded Tyrion for a long time before he said, "A good judge of character? You don't really believe that."

"Actually, I do. And why not? All we know about dragons is what is written in some books. Nobody knows what really happened or why. And it's not like the dragons could have told anyone why they let somebody ride on their back or why they burnt somebody else to ashes."

Varys still wasn't convinced and eyed Tyrion skeptically.

"Ser Jorah could probably ride them," Tyrion went on, throwing Varys a red herring. "They've known him since they were little baby dragons."

"Maybe. But Jon Snow? They've known him for what… a couple weeks?"

"Maybe they can sense that their mother trusts him."

"So now they can read minds as well?" Varys asked mockingly.

"Do you have a better explanation?" Tyrion wanted to know. Would Varys be able to make the connection? Tyrion was convinced that if anybody could, it would be Varys.

"Not yet."


End file.
